The Legends of Montauk: With an Historical Appendix

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^-'

THE

LEGENDS OF lONTAUL

/
BY J. A. AYRES.

WITH AN HISTORICAL APPEIJDIX.

HARTFORD:

EDWIN HUNT, 6 ASYLUM STREET.

1849.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1848, by

J. A. AYREB,

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Connecticut.

15699

PRESS OF

CASS, TUTANT 4 C0.|

HIRTTORD, COmf.

I • • • \ '■

PREFACE.

During the summers of 1846, '7, the author had the
pleasure of visiting the peninsula of Montauk in company
with a friend, to whom all its objects of curiosity and its
tales of former times were familiar. Partly to recall the
pleasant hours which he there spent, and partly because he
deemed the subject one of interest in itself, he has produced
the following poem ; in which, if any see Uttle to praise, he
would fain hope that the effort to commend to pubUc regard,
what has proved to himself a source of much quiet pleasure
and enjoyment, may at least shield him from censure.

For the historical sketch at the close, he is indebted to the
same friend, whose enthusiastic admiration first woke in
him an interest in the history, the traditions, and the scenery,

of this peculiar country.

J. A. A.
East Hartford, Dec. 1848.

LEGENDS OF MOWTAUK.

LEGENDS OF MONTAUK.

PART I.

"I have asked the ancient deserts,

To gire my dead a place.** — ^Hnuxs.

Morn, mellowing into Autumn, soft and fair.
But wooing still the summer's golden air,
Woke with its choicest smile, when first I passed.
The hills that rise beside *Neapeague's^ lone waste.
Joyous, I heard, while slowly borne along.
From wakening birds, the early burst^ of song,
Upspringing like a morning hymn, to rise
And mingle with the worship of the skies.
Far down the west, the waning shadows died.
The coming sun glanced on the mountain side,

♦ Nap-pe^.

10 LEGENDS OP

Reared its bald head o'er Nommonock's' far height.
And with its golden flood made all things light.
Lo ! where old ocean, restless in its bed.
Raised this drear waste above its billowy head !
Far stretching on, the barren plain of sand
Joins Seawanhackee* to " the hilly* land/'
Still, o'er its face, rests now the breath of mom.
Nor trees, nor winding stream, its face adorn.
For grassy lawn, or waving fields of grain.
The wearied eye roams o'er its length in vain ;
No shady vale, or swelling land, it finds.
Save glittering sand hills, built by roving winds.
Silent Neapeague ! far stretching, void, and drear.
Yet from thy stillness springs a voice of cheer.
Upon thy sands the ocean billows rest.
Thundering in storm, or rippling on thy breast.

Cold is the heart that does not bound to view.
For the first time, the ocean's rolling blue ;
The long white wave that foams far down the shore.
Whose steady beating is the surfs deep roar.
Or the broad mirror, where the waters sleep

MONTAUK. 11

That fill the channels of the unmeasured deep.
Wide rolling ocean ! how all thoughts of man
Sink in the Vastness of thy mighty plan j
Still in the dim horizon swims the tide^
Whose kindred waters flow thy feet beside.
Thy pathway waits about the gates of mom,
Where glowing light the ocean tints adorn,
And with the dying day, by Andes old.
Rippling on pebbled shores, thy notes sweet music

hold.
Thy tone is mortal music, yet aspires
To the deep chiming of immortal choirs ;
Wild, solemn, soft; so still, the listening ear
Bows th' enravished melody to hear.
What thoughts thy presence wakes, oh mighty flood !
Hushed o*er the heart comes awe, with reverent

mood.
Searching the mighty finite, to adore
The infinite of all-creating power.
And beauty, leaving for a little while
The lip of opening flower, and woman's smile,

12 LEGENDS OF

And streamlet murmuriog through embowering

groves.
And whispering trees, that gentle asephyrs move.
The witching shadows of the moonlit eve^
And all enchanting things our spirits love ;
Wakes like a new born feeling, to drink in
The inspiration of thy glorious scene.
Wide ocean ! walking in thy majesty.
While the hushed winds upon thy bosom lie.
Or wildly struggling, when in mighty wrath.
The sounding tempest mars thy tranquil path ;
In every mood, I own thy strong control.
And feel thine influence mould my willing soul :
Teach me, oh mighty deep, thy lessons wise.
Breathe o'er my soul, oh ocean's restless sighs.
And wake the enduring heart, that struggles for the

prize.
What stories cluster round thy barren land.
Far stretching desert, built by ocean's hand.
Thy soil holds buried treasures ; ships are there.
Whom wailing tempests, on their shoulders bare.
And laid unshattered in their mighty graves,

MONTAUK. 13

Dug mid the howling of storm-driven waves*
And men, swept sudden from the flooded deck.
Or dropped from spars> or from the crazy wreck,
Falling exhausted, or swimming uselessly,
Over the foundered bark, are hid^ with thee.
And mighty monsters, floating at their ease.
Diving far down, or ploughing foaming seas.
Caught by the treacherous wave, and rudely tossed,
All powerless now, are stranded on thy coast.
Yet light the sands rest on thy buried dead,
Child of the sea, of storm and ocean bred;
CreationlMiw thee not, or the new earth
Fresh from the avenging flood, time's second birth.

Cheerless Neapeague ! how bounds the heart to gain.
The hills that spring beyond thy weary plain.
On the firm earth we rested, gazing now.
Where stormy ocean smoothed its tranquil brow ;
Or on the close-cropt lawns, stretching far down.
From the tall hills, to where the waters frown ;
Or oftener, bending curious eyes to trace.
The deep still valleys,^ love's calm resting place.

14 LEGENDS OF

Sweet smiling valleys, quite forsaken now,
Cradled so fair beneath the mountain's brow.
Though no fond hearts upon thy bosom lie,
Yet heardest thou many a tale in days gone by ;
When whispering in the moonlight, words of love,
Souls wrapped in bliss through all thy walks would

rove.
Where now are all thy children, gentle home ?
Could &irer scenes entice them hence to roam !
Poor dwellers of the valley, hill, and plain.
Thy homes long cherished, wait for thee in vain j
Gone like the leaf of summer, like the dew
That passes with the morning from the view.

Upward and onward, till at noon we hid
Beneath the shadows of the Hither^ Wood :
Faint remnant of the trees, whose giant forms
In other days fought with the raging storms j
Loud through their tops the ocean blasts were

borne,
Down the far valleys swept the foliage torn.
Unflinching yet, and heedless of the jBght,

MONTAUK. 15

Their bare arms waved in strength above the

mountain height.
Stricken and sickly now^ the forest shade,
By bush and stunted tree is poorly made :
Yet welcome was its cover, while the span
Of sluggish noon the flaming chariot ran.
With easy journey thence by Kongonock,
Across Down Neck, we sought "the printed* rockj'V
And by its side the pool, whose tranquil wave
Hides in its depth a heaven avenging grave.

There is no country like Montauk^s rude isle ;
Strange are its rolling hills, its valleys' smile.
Its trees lone dying in their ancient place,
As if in sorrow for a dying race ;
Strange is its verdant sod, unbroken wide,
Through the deep vales, and on the hills' broad side.

On far Wamponomon^^ at last, and lo !
How still and tranquil ; on the manly brow
Care writes no wrinkles here ; and the dull eye
Of age or sorrow, wakes revivingly.

16 LEGENDS OF

How grateful to the heart, fresh from the din
And turmoil of quick life, in this still scene :
Mom with its sacred hour, and pensive ere,
On the calm soul their faithful impress leave ;
While the great thought of the eternal sea.
Awes first, then wakes within, a boundless energy.
Day closed in beauty, and I laid me down,
On the tall cliffs to watch the shadows brown;
Around his glorious rest, the drowsy king,
Hung spangled clouds before night's ebon wing ;
She, all devouring, drank the cheerful light.
Quenched the far rays that touched the mountain

height.
Poured through the valleys, deepened on the plain,
And fell in solemn stillness o'er the main.
How still is darkness ! whether by the sea
That soothes its waves to fall more quietly.
Or in the whispering forest, where the trees.
With softer cadence, woo the night's calm breeze.
Watching, with keenest sense, to catch the sound
Of flying fox, that soflly beats the ground ;
Or while the owl, her guardian, flitting near.

MONTAUK. 17

On downy wing mocks all your care to hear j
Or yet again, where with the flashing light
Of torch and lamp, the peopled street is bright.
How still is darkness, and how solemn too,
That, black and rayless, clothes the heaven's brow,
Seen from the midst of blazing lamps, whose light
Lifts for a little way the pall of night.

Joyous and bright at length, rose Dian's crest.
And gaily sparkled o'er the world at rest;
Far on the deep its lovely radiance lay.
Broader, and brighter, like the good" man's way.
No sound, save Nature's whispers, uttered low.
Through air, and earth, and ocean, speaking now ;
With whistling pinion, musical to hear.
Swift as the wind the black duck cleft the air^
Traveling from far, long ere in chilling frost
And blinding snows, its Autumn path is lost.
The snipe, with twittering note, and sanderling.
Fanned the soft air with rapid beating wing.
And from the sea, I heard the spectral cry
Of the great loon, ring through the evening sky.

18 LEGENDS OF

Long time I waited silent^ and drank in

The sights and sounds of all this moving scene ;

Then by the smooth white shore I stood, where

come
Forever the long waves of ocean home,
And bending down, I listened soft and low.
To the deep music" of the water^s flow j
Where rolling pebbles, hid beneath the sea,
, With the retiring waves make harmony.

There is no music like the sounds that come.
From ocean's many-voiced, mysterious home.
Light on the shore the dancing ripple flows.
With gentle murmur, when the south wind blows ;
Grand is the roar of waters, while they rise
With angry tumult to the frowning skies :
Loud sounds aloft, when storms the traveler blind.
The trumpet echo of the flying wind j
And in the calm of elements, like symphony.
Come notes of wandering birds from off the sea.
I saw the ships float idly on the tide.
Or slowly move across the ocean wide.

MONTAQK. 19

And heard in fancy, eager shoutings come
Along the deep, land ho ! land ho ! our home !
Soil fell the moonlight on the snowy sail,
Whose lazy folds yet court the sounding gale,
Lit sparkling bubbles over all the main,
And with its mellow light made all things plain.
Then, while the winged hours, with rapid flight
Bore swiftly on the dusky wheels of night.
With lingering steps, I sought the lonely home,'*
Unto whose evening hearth few neighbors come.
And listened to a tale of the olden time.
When warriors trod the rolling hills sublime.

WYANDANNEE.

There is a valley" fair to view,
Where the early violets blue.
Hiding in the leaves are seen.
Peeping through their broken screen.
While the sun, yet fiur away.
Shines with warm but fitful ray.
Wakes them from their sheltered bed.

20 LEGENDS OF

Ere the frozen snows are fled,
'Tis a pleasant thing to see^
How they blossom hopefully,
In the valley warm and fair.
Sheltered from the chilly air.
And when Autumn, dark and drear.
Murmurs to the closing year.
And the asters all have died
On the hill and mountain side ;
^is a pleasant thing to meet
Here and there an aster yet.
Blooming in the sickly ray.
Of the pale sun far away.
Lovely valley, sweetly smiling.
Beautiful, our hearts beguiling.
Underneath thy flowery bed
Rest the ashes of the dead.
Lo ! the grass that gently waves.
Hides a perished nation's graves.
And the trees, bare-armed and drear.
All about like ghosts appear,
Mourners for the fallen state
Standing sad and desolate.

MONTAUK, 21

Speak, oh valley of the dead !
Where are all thy people fled ?
Once from Kongonock they spread
To CuUoden's frowning head.
And their dusky hamlets lay,
Peaceful in night's glimmering ray.
Now there is not left a stone
Of their dwellings overthrown.
Not a single resting place,
For the renmant of the race.
Yet the valley smiles as gay
In the sun's returning ray,
And the cheerful asters bloom
On the verge of Winters gloom.

Hast thou never heard the story
Of the famous warrior king ?
Brave Wyandannee, whose glory
Indian maidens loved to sing.
In this valley was his dwelling.
All about his followers lay,
On thq hill side, gently swelling

22 LEGENDS OF

East and northward^ fiu* avray ;
Yet so near^ each battle cry.
Or the shout of victory.
Woke the fiery heart, that beat
In this distant still retreat.
Over all these rolling mountains.
Where the pleasant valleys hide.
With their softly flowing fountains.
High above the ocean tide ;
Was his arm of power extended.
Undisturbed his kingly sway.
From Wamponomon's far ending
To Neapeague's still sheltering bay.
Proud old chieftain ! good and brave,
Struggling hard thy land to save.
While the sweeping wand of fate
Made the people desolate ;
Many a tale of thee is told
In these hills and valleys old ;
And the last of all thy name.
Kindles at thy deathless fame.
Wakes the fiery thought, that died

MOMTAUK. 23

Long ago in humbled pride ;
And with burning heart and tongue.
As in other days they sung,
Tells the legends, old and brief.
Of the famous warrior chief.

Day was closing, yellow and fair.
Summer was breathing its balmy air.
Beautiful Kongonock, fair in the view.
Shone in the light with a changeable hue ;
Flowrets were drooping on nature's fair breast.
And closing their eyes like mortals to rest ;
Faint in the woods died the music of birds.
Day's parting whispers, beautiful words ;
When our tale begins, in the days of yore,
Two hundred years ago or more.

Is it a time of peace or war ?
For they come from the forest, near and far,
Wyandannee's brave men are here.
Each with a quiver, and bow, and spear.
And hearts that laugh at the thought of fear.

24 LEGENDS OF

Old men gather in groups around.

Few their words, their thoughts profound.

Youth, with restless hand and heart.

Draw, a merrier band; apart.

Bend the bow or hurl the dart ;

And each hut the forest shades,

Seems alive with Indian maids.

Shining in their best array.

Decked for some high holiday ;

This is the bridal night to be.

Of the chieftain^s daughter, Momone.

Wert thou bred in the forest, beautiful one ?

Is the brown on thy cheek, but the brown of the

sun?
And thy delicate step on the dry fallen leaf.
Does it flow in the blood of the child of the chief?
Then is nature a better teacher than we.
When her lessons are given to such as thee..

Wyandannee walks here apart.

He would not let them read his heart.

For thoughts are passing there, that throw

MONTAUK. 25

Their fitful light upon his brow j

He cannot bid the shadows go :

It may be but a nameless sorrow,

For his lonely home when wakes the morrow ;

A feeling of solitude, hard to bear

When the hearts we love no longer are there.

Or some secret grief he would not share :

Or it may be perchance some mighty dread.

Dim, indistinct, hangs over his head ;

Such things happen at times, 'tis said.
Whaterer it be, it lasts not long,
Momone comes from the festal throng.

And the chieftain's thoughts are turned aside,

Or he striveth well his care to hide.

Child of a long and noble line !

The warrior said, let their spirit be thine.

The cub ci the panther, watches its sire.

And the same light bums in its eye c^ fire ;

The eaglet follows with daring wing.

To the path where soars the feathered king.

Be the mother of chiefs, whose power shall stand

Firm as the pines of the hilly land ;

26 LEGENDS OP

Brave in the battle, swift as the wind,

And with step that leaves no mark behind.

For the wily foe, its trace to find.

Brave isle of M ontaukett ! thy rulers have been

Lords of the valley, and hill, and plain.

And thine is the lawful right to reign.

My warriors come firom the vales that rest.

Beneath Shagwannock's pine clad crest ;

From the Nommonock hills, from the mountain

side.
And the plains where the timid grass-birds hide.

Shall the pride of the warrior hide in his breast,
Love deeper and stronger than words ere ex-
pressed ?
It may do it perhaps, when he stands in his place
As the chief of his tribe, as the king of his race ;
While the young men watch each word and tone,
And the look of the brave, to make their own ;
Or the maidens sing of his deeds of &me.
Till the many-voiced echoes wake with his name :
Yet he careth little his soul to hide.

MONTAUK. 27

When the child of his love, walks alone by his side.
Hush child of Allanna ! bird of the wood !
If thou deemest me now in but sorrowful mood ;
A vision of something, I scarcely know how.
Was a weight on my heart, a cloud on my brow ;
It is gone with thy coming, it returns not again.
Thy presence can charm away weightier pain.
From the home of thy youth art thou passing away ?
Let the love of thy heart, in my lone dwelling stay.
I shall miss thee at morn, for thy song will be
In the ears of thy lover, once sung for me.
I shall miss thee at eve, when I walk alone,
And listen no more to thy heart-cheering tone.
The soil- whistling plover, bred on the plain.
In the opening spring will come again ;
And the very stones round its time-worn nest.
By its frequent feet are surely pressed.
Thou wilt come again, at morn and eve.
And the heart of thy sire will cease to grieve.
No shade on thy brow love, the hour flieth fast,
I have ceased from this hour, to think of the past ;
In the dim rising future, fair visions I see.

28 LEGENDS OF

And the fairest of all, is my hope in thee.
Thy lever awaits thee ; is there one to compare
With the chief of thy heart, in the chase or in war :
His swifl-flying arrow darts far o'er the plain^
And never returns to its quiver in vain.
Fleet as the deer when he starts from his bed^
And sinks on his shoulders^' his beautiful head^
His foot is first in the health*giving race.
And he speedeth alone, in the far-stretching chase*
Such a chief is thy lover, then haste to his side.
Ere he waiteth to welcome his far-straying bride.

On Shagwannock's towering head.
All the giant pines are dead,
That long centuries ago,
Flourished on his noble brow.
From the top, now bare and clear.
View the prospect far and near ;
Many a half-forgotten place
That the curious eye can trace.
Where some story, dim with years.
Lingers ere it disappears.

MONTAUK. 29

There is Manchonock/* beside
Still Neapeagae's light swelling tide.
And when bright the sun's rays fling
Luster o'er the sea and land^
You maj mark the gull's light wii^^ .
Flapping o'er her bar of sand.
Still awaj, Meshoniac^^ Ues
Dim beneath the western skies ;
And the Sheltering Isle is seen,
Sleeping on the waters green.
Brief the circuit of the isle.
Round which pleasant waters smile.
Ever wandering to and fro.
With the tide's unceasing flow.
Here, two hundred years ago,
Dwelt Manhassett's^^ warriors bravei
In each creek the light canoe,
Floating buoyant on the wave.
Praise to the chieftain, worthy to be
Brother of Wyandannee !

30 LEGENDS OF

Who can unravel the wonderful tie
That knits our hearts mysteriously ?
Love for the weak, the frail, the fair,
Clippeth the strong man's locks of hair,
Till he 'Cannot break the silken string.
That Cupid drops from his idle wing.
Love for the child on its mother's breast.
Little heeding, though much caressed.
And that carelessly turns its soft blue eye
To the look that beameth eloquently ;
Leadeth where pestilence, strong as death,
Dwelleth in every tranquil breath ;
Or dives through the bursting flames, that come
At midnight, from th' affrighted home.
Love for a friend, no matter what name.
Be it kindred, companion, all the same.
Where sympathy true and long-tried binds.
Like the rock to the crystal, congenial minds,
Liveth, though years or seas divide
The souls where true affections hide ;
Heedeth not sorrow, or pain, or grief.
While the fount of the heart can give relief;

MONTAUK. 31

Nerveth iteelf anew to bear,

Hopes disappointed, trouble and care.

Nor faileth, till the daylight of reason depart.

And the Lor4 givcth rest, to the o^er-burdened

heart.
Some such love, in the legend 'tis told.
Bound together the warriors bold,
And the brave of Unkenchie" would not rest.
With the crumbling mold on his silent breast,
Save where the hills of Montaukett, and sea.
Watched for the ghost of Wyandannee.
Two hundred years, in the forest shade
They guard the place in the dry earth made.
Where, when they bore the warrior dead.
They rested awhile his mortal head.
And ever since, as the tribe pass by.
They view the spot with reverent eye.
And sweep from the earth with anxious care.
The leaves by the many winds gathered there.
Till a mark is formed in the sacred place
Which changing time will not e&ce ;

32 LEGENDS OF

And the traveler searches in curious mood.

For " the Sachem V* Hole," in the haunted wood.

Hark to the many-toned voices of mirth.
The joy stirring sounds of the festive earth.
While night closes beautiful over the rale.
And the stars peep out in the moonlight pale.
Momone, graceful queen,
Treads with light foot the sylvan green.
While the merry dance goes round and round.
Till the cheerful echoes wake with the sound;
And the Indian maidens softly glide,
Graceful and stiU, in the path of the bride.
Many a brave <rf the tribe is nigh.
But the light of the battle is not in his eye.
And he looks on the dance, with a smile as free
As the child that laughs on its mother's knee.
The spear in his hand — it is but to guide
His step more sure, on the steep hill-side ;
And little he seentieth to notice, or care
For the quiver and bow on his shoulder bare.
Grey haired men of the tribe look on.

MONTAUK. 33

And the tone severe from their brow is gone ;

Eren wisdom, sage and sad,

Deigneth sometimes to look glad.

list to the sounds o£ mirth and song

That over the valley pour along.

Youth is mad with laughter and glee,

Loud rise the shouts of revelry.

Till the quiet night forgets her place.

And seemeth to hasten her tardy pace.

To the home of the lover, the bride is borne ;

From the tree where it grew, the rose is shorn ;

In the pride of her heart, still she cannot forget

How lonely his home whom she loveth most yet ;

And her low whispered words in the ear of the

chief.
Soft breathings of love, are a sweet relief.

StUl — Shushed in a moment — has the angel of death

Laid his icy hand on every breath ?

Still — ^yes it ccMneth — on the mountain afiur,

I hear the loud cry, the alarum of war;

From the head of Shagwannock far flashes the light.

34 LEGENDS OF

'Tis the beacon's warning, the signal of fight.

Rise chief of Montaukett ! wake arm of the brave I

Glory or death, a home or a grave !

Is there a cheek that blenches pale ?

Or a voice that raises the mournful wail ?

Every eye is brave and bold.

Every heart is firm and cold.

As if mirth and laughter were never there,

And the struggle for life was their native air.

The heart of the warrior rises higher

In the light of the maiden's eye of fire ;

And he bounds firom the hut like the cougar's

spring.
And his step is light as the wild bird's wing.
Ah ! child of the chief, canst thou give this night
Thy lover and sire to the death-bearing fight ?
From the front of the battle they hold not back.
Where death worketh busy their arm will not

slack :
Not a word, patient queen, from thy struggling heart.
Not a look in thine eye, but will bid them depart ;

MONTAUK. 35

Though the tendrils of strong affection twine.
They are crushed with thy heart at the warrior's
shrine.

Daughter of a kingly line,

Where is the brave that mates with thine ?

See how his eye with ardor glows !

Dimmed so late by calm repose ;

A moment he bends his head to hear

If the cry of the conflict be far or near.

Then tears from his breast the garment of peace.

Glad as a caged bird seeking release :

Bind the war plumes on his brow.

Raven black, and white as snow.

And let the captive warrior go j

He snuffeth up blood on the mountains afar,

His breast is thy bulwark in the struggle of war.

High over Shagwannock rises the light.
And the fires of CuUoden shine on the fight :
Every hilRop burneth bright.
Loud, o'er " the hilly land," rises the cry

36 LEGENDS OF

Of the living who fight, and the fallen who die.

Ha ! what is the blaze that a&r I see

Springing out of the dim lit sea ?

On distant Meshomac it struggles a while,

Then flames like a meteor over the isle.

I hear the wild yell as they wake from their sleeps

Borne by the night wind over the deep j

Haste, O chief of a nation brave,

Let thine arm be strong to save ;

Toss on the wave the light canoe.

Heart and hand be firm and true ;

For the best of the land are hard beset,

Though they struggle, they^ yield not yet j

Haste to the rescue, let thy war cry ring

like a thunderbolt in the ears of the king.

Who proudly leaveth his northern land.

To grasp our wealth with his plundering hand.

Out on the chieftain — ^bend the bow.

Lay the haughty warrior low.

To the fight — to the fight — at the head of the vale ;
Say, shall the host of invaders prevail ?

MONTAUK. 37

Countless in numbers, each partizan slain

Springs to life in his fellow again.

See how the eagle plume, black and white,

Stays up the battle, leads on the fight ;

In the front of the contest fall his blows.

Thick and &st as the winter snows.

Who the young clad chief shall stay ?

For he tracks with blood his fiery way;

And the cluster of braves that fight by his side.

Will still in death with their leader abide.

If they stay not the onward rushing tide.

Ah ! child of the chief, let thine eye be bright

For the glory thy lover shall win this night.

The maidens shall sing in thy ears the song.

How he drove the proud foe of the North along.

And second to none save the mighty chief.

Fought for his bride and his land's relief.

To the fight — to the fight — at the head of the vale ;
Strength and courage cannot avail,
Westward rolls the battle sound.
Hardly is won each foot of ground.

38 LEGENDS OF

Flee now to the forest maiden and child !

Hide where the thicket is dark and wild^

Haste, lest the fierce foe follow your path.

Better than this were the warrior's death.

Helpless age, maiden and child,

Hide where the forest is dark and wild.

She stirs not, will not depart.

Scorn on her lip, woe in herjheart ;

Child of AUanna ! rise and fly,

Hope looks out from the clouds of the sky.

When sorrow nippeth the bud of life.

Hard on the young heart falleth the strife ;

As the pleasant thoughts that have clustered there.

One by one fall dead and bare.

And the blossom of hope brings forth despair.

^Tis the grey of the morning ; the fight is not done.
And sorrowful sights wait the coming sun ;
A village in ashes, and hundreds of slain
Stretched on the hill-side, the valley, and plain.
I see the wild strife as it rolls to the west,
Few are the fighting men, hardly pressed.

MONTAUK. 39

Only a handful yet are left,
Sore, chief of the isle, of thy strength bereft :
Yet by each valley, and plain, and hill.
They fight like men who will conquer still.
Hope never dies in the brave man's soul,
Hope and toil can fate control.

Still in the battle's front advancing,
Wyandannee's bright axe is glancing;
From right to left the foe retreat.
And fear the island chief to meet;
His single arm the fight maintains.
His warriors' failing strength sustains.
And bravely stays the tide of war
That o'er the isle has swept afar.
One single arm will sometimes save
A nation from a bloody grave ;
One single will control a host.
And pour its spirit o'er the rest.

Where is the eagle-^plume, black and white ?
I see it not in the dim grey light ;

40 LEGENDS OF

Look to the front of the battle again,

Count the warriors on the plain,

For the lover and brave you lopk in vain.

On the brow of CuUoden, in the dead of the night.

For his bride and his name he died in the %ht ;

And his ear is dull to the soft low tone,

Hiat by his side makes a pitiful moan.

To the Nommonock Hills the foe have come,
Tis the last defence of the island home.
And they rally with desperate daring now.
Strike brave hearts, lay the foeman low.
Where is the chief of Unkenchie the while ?
I saw the watch light on the Sheltering Isle ;
Look over Neapeague's far desert of sand,
Cometh he not with his warrior band.
As a covey of quails on frightened wing.
From bush and brake so suddenly spring.
Every cover yielding one,
y Hid on the earth like a moss-groJife stone ;

So from each shelter and bush and rock,
That bideth on rugged Nonunonock,

MONTAUK. 41

At the cry of their chief, the Manhassetts arose,

A hundred warriors, dauntless foes,

And poured on the fight with their wild battle cry;

Joy to the brave, for succor is nigh.

Wild was the uproar, fearful the fray.

Yet it died as sudden in the dim light of day ; '

For the power of the Northmen was broken here.

And hope sprang up in the dim eye of fear.

One sorrow remains yet, one mightier grief;

Can thy hand, oh time, soothe the heart of the chief?

On the path of the battle the foemen fled.

And paused by Culloden's field of the dead ;

There by her lover, hoping not, heeding not.

Glued by her tears to the sorrowful spot.

Sat the patient queen, still and alone ;

Sorrow had turned her heart to stone.

They bore her away, but she made no sign ;

No word as they fled o'er the foaming brine.

Mourn for the dead in battle slain.
Whose life blood wets the battle plain ;

42 LEGENDS OFMONTAUK.

Mourn for the mourners of the dead^
And for the captives captive led ;
Mourn for their smoking homes ; but chief,
Mourn for the chieftain's silent grief.

The tale was told, the lights burned dim and low.
And leaden sleep pressed on my weary brow ;
I laid me down, and heard the requiem
Of the great deep, sung for my evening hymn ;
Then in the land of shadows lived again
My first hours on Montauk, and by the swelling
main.

PART II.

*' Oh nature ! is there naught to prize,

FunHiar in thy bosom scenes of life.**— Cuipbbll.

There is a luxury reserved for those

Whose lives of weary toil scarce know repose ;

To feel the freedom of cares left behind.

No irksome task the unwilling hands to bind.

Wake with the smiling morn, abroad to roam.

Or idly spend the happy hours at home.

So woke I on Montauk when mom awoke,

While joyous o'er the sea Aurora broke.

And with my host explored the pebbled shore.

Where the long waves with ceaseless tumult pour-

The mighty pulse of ocean, whose strong heart

Sends the full beat of life to every part;

With lines like puny cables coiled to throw

Far o^er the deep, and tempt the prey below.

44 LEGENDS OF

Not now with rod, and reel, and silken line.

Such toils fall idle on the foaming brine.

Thrice round the head the gaudy squid ascends.

At each revolve the lengthening line extends.

Then with full strength it takes its distant way,

The quivering line gives out with ready play.

Till far along the deep, its vigor spent,

With misty plunge the ocean veil is rent.

Now with quick skill, flashing through waters green,

Instinct with life, the glancing lure is seen ;

So on the wave the silver spearings rise,

When tranquil ocean greets the smiling skies.

Perchance the tempting bait fast gliding by.

Of wandering fish has caught the eager eye ;

Unused to wily man on this &r spot.

The trailing line annexed, affrights him not :

With rapid rise the heaving waters part.

And deep engulphed he feels the treacherous smart.

Mark now the tightened line far o'er the main.

And gently ease the first fierce plunge and strain ;

Deep underneath his headlong way he takes.

Where rock and reef the foaming breaker makes.

MONTAUK. 45

With gentle hand, but half resisting, stay
His firm design and check his onward way;
Again with steady force he seeks the deep,
Where the still waters of the ocean sleep.
With fins erect, to ease the smarting pain.
Plough^ the quick sand, but feels his labor vaiS 9
Nor strength, nor courage, will his wants avail.
Too firmly fixed the barbed hook to fail.
One effort more before he yields the strife,
One farther struggle for the boon of life ;
With upward plunge, so the rough sturgeon springs,
Above the wave his length twice told he flings ;
Quivers like life's last gasp in every fin.
And to the opening wave descends again.
Around the foam and flashing spray are cast.
Brave is the struggle, though it prove the last ;
Take heart of courage now and toward the strand
The weary captive draw with careful hand.
Till on the pebbled shore he safely lies.
And in a cloud of fading glory dies*

46 LEGENDS OF

The morn was fine, and weary with the spoil
Which ocean rendered to our patient toil.
We rested where a deep ravine came down^
Courting the fitful breeze from ocean thrown^
The Silver Tern came idly flapping by,
WitH head inclined and all-observant eye 5 .
With graceful form and easy flight it came.
Forward and back and yet again the same.
How light its graceful form ! its tapering wing
With soft descent no labor seems to bring.
Mark now the change ! beneath the waters green^
A timid school, the tiny lance is seen ;
With wing inclined, swift as the falling stone.
Upon the wave the eager bird comes down;
Before his fall in foam the waters part.
Above the wave the frightened victims dart:
lake vultures to the prey^ unseen before.
From every quarter swift devourers pour ; •
From air to wave and back again to air,
A hundred bills aloft their burden bear.
Nor these alone pursue, a fiercer foe

MONTAUK. 47

With holigry eye starts from the depths^ below j
Drives through the school^ swift as the lightning's

path,
And jaws terrific like the gates of death.
Alas ! poor victims," for your hour is come.
Ill-fated voyageurs wheresoe^r ye roam.
Nor shallow creek, nor shelving shore, nor bey,
A refuge gives or drives the foe Bway.
Slowly the gathered crowd broke up again.
And one by one tracked the wide-swelling main ;
Yet oft returned with curious eye to trace.
If aught remained to mari^ their feasting pkce.
Upon the rocks we lay in idle mood.
And watched them to and fro, o'er ocean's flood ;
Till with a sudden start, behold, we cried.
The leader that but now the prey espied ;
Straight on his former path he took his way.
And see with like success he seemed to say ;
For with closed iving he fell as heretofore.
But to the upper air returned no more ;^^
Lost in the ravening maw of fish that spring
Swift through the waters as the bird on wing.

48 LEGENDS OF

We saw the long wave like a swelling wall,
Upcm the beaten sand in thunder fall ;
Far up the beach the foaming waters go,
And back returning join the ebbing-flow.
But see th^ countless tiny birds that roam
Backward and forward through the sparkling foam ;
Their nimble feet the gliding wave pursue,
Their eyes so quick, the struggling insect view;
Gathering their food from ocean's kindly hand,
Brought by the wave and left upon the sand.
Again the wave rolls in to meet the shore,
And from the top the glancing waters pour;
With heedless haste from underneath they spring,
And back retreating, scarcely take to wing ;
Chased by the gathering foam far up the shcn'e.
And quick returning as they did before.
So by the sea in countless swarms appear
The pigmy Peeps** along the waning year;
Their gentie look and tender trusting eye.
Like old acquaintance, seem to win us nigh.
Unheeding to your feet they fearless run.
Trace the wet sand, or bask them in the sun,

MONTAUK. 49

Rise on the wind like feathers blown along^
And flight as noiseless, sare their chirping song.
Alas ! for him, who for no useful end
Would fierce destruction throu^ their numbers

send,
like friends they seemed to us, so still, so good.
As by the sea we sat in listless mood.
I know not but perchance my host might spy
A relisMbr the tales of days gone by ;
Or that my idle manner seemed to say,
A patient listener he had found that day j
For with an Indian legend once again,
He sought to wile the hour beside the flowing main.

WEEONCOMBONE.

Whose step is like the prancing deer,
When quick alarm sounds in his ear,
Or like the swift fox gliding by.
Gone ere his form you can espy ?

Weeoncombone.

50 LEGENDS OF

Whose heart is brave when daiigers come.
Or war afirights our tranquil home ;
Who leads the fiery conflict on,
Where the war scalp is lost and won ?
Weeoncombone,

Whose strength is like the pines that gxow
Above Shagwannock's lofty brow ;
Whose eye is like the lightning's glea^i ;
Whose voice is like the eaglets scream X
Weeoncombone.

Weeoncombone, the msddens sang.

His praise the forest arches rang,

In danger brave, and wise as brave,

All trusted him their land to save.

The Indian maidens, half aside.

Watched his firm step and glance of pride j

Old men his deeds of daring told.

And bade their sons like him be bold.

Oh, kindly look on minds untaught.

That gladly better things had sought.

MONTAUK. 51

If the rich light from heaven that came
Had touched their bosom's secret flame.
And His dear word to us free given.
Had lit their pathway up to heaven.
It is not ours to judge the soul,
Where noble impulse holds control ;
Enough our God who dwells above,
Is better than our hearts of love ;
No virtuous deed, no impulse high,
No firm resolve or earnest sigh,
Of hope or goodness ever woke,
But in the ear of God it spoke.
In pride of heart the warrior stood,
In pride of strength, and pride of blood.
Before old men in council met.
The gathered wisdom of the state.
With flashing eye he told his tale,
Whose tidings woke the funeral wail.
When the red sun with glaring light.
Dispelled the shadows of the night.

S2 LEGENDS OF

" But yestep-e'en the sun went down
Upon Manisse's'* walls of stone,
Where I with three brave followers came.
To watch the evening's dying flame.
With patient care we spent the day.
Beneath the crag whereon we lay.
Watching an eagle's eyrie there,
Till the bold king returned from far.
With gallant flight, I saw him come,
Unfearing to his rocky home ;
Upon the crag his wing he fiiried.
Proud as the monarch of the world.
Shook his strong quills, and with a scream
That woke his brooding mate's wild dream,
Looked down upon the rolling sea;
Free as its rolling waves was he.
This arrow pierced the regal bird.
Ere the far cliff his death cry heard ;
Downward he fell from crag to rock.
And struck the sand with thunder-shock.
His heart of fire was rent in twain,
Checked was the blood in every vein,

MONTAUK. 63

And every nerve so strong but now,

Was palsied by the &tal blow.

He could not move his head that lay

Upon the sands of ocean grey,

Or stir his wing, or with strong grasp

My fingers in his talons clasp ;

Yet round and round his flashing eye,^

Turned boldly on his enemy ;

With its full power of lofty hate.

On me who fain would be his mate.

I plucked the war plumes one by one.

That grew above his heart of stone.

And to my scalp lock bound them on ;

Then climbed the cliff and idly lay.

To watch the fading light of day.

Seek we our home, I said at last,
The labors of the day are past j
And gathering vapors in the west.
Tell of the coming sea^s unrest.
Scarce had I spoke the signal word.
Or scarce my trusty followers heard,

u

54 LEGENDS OF

When the wild war-cry of the norths

Close at my side burst fiercely forth.^

From bush and rock came swiftly on.

Led by Janemo's haughty son.

Five foemen from the main-land sent,

Upon our path with foul intent.

TTieir war-locks on the evening streamed.

Their battle-axes brightly gleamed.

Flashing while round their heads they swung,

And loud the stirring war-whoop rung.

My knife the leader's scalp-lock found.

Beside my belt the prize I bound.

Then turned again to seek the foe ;

Turned but to see the fatal blow

That sent Merodinock's brave ghost

To the fair forests of the blest.

I brained the murderer at a stroke^

While fierce revenge within me woke,

And sprang, my followers aid to yield ;

Too late, alas ! their lives to shield.

Like true men fought the foe and died,

My warriors falling by their side.

MONTAUK. 66

And when the last death shriek arose^
I was alone of friends or foes."

Old men with reverence heard his word,
His haughty speech their bosoms stirred.
And with respect shown not in vain,
None answered to his tale again.
Forth from the Council Lodge be passed.
And sought his quiet home at last ;
Where in Sewanna's gentle smile.
He might forget his night of toil.
While o^er the sea's wild-swelling flow.
Alone he drove his light canoe.
The chief's proud look is laid aside,
To meet his lovely youthful bride.
The fierce light of his eye is gone.
His voice has found its mellow tone.
And as his sterner thoughts depart,
Scfl pleasure twines around his heart*
Sewanna, queen of Indian maids.
So light of hand the chieftain aids.
His quiver in the lodge she hung.

56 LEGENDS OF

And by its side the mantle swung;

While smoking venison radely dressed.

And cheerful flame invite to rest.

In other tones than now he told

The fiery %ht and struggle bold j

Gave for Merodinock a sigh.

His early friend, and always nigh,

And showed the war plumes that he won

Ere the death struggle was begun.

Sewanna, nature's noble child,

A kindred heart about him smiled.

Spake not of danger or defeat,

Although, perchance, her heart's quick beat,

A different story might have told,

And less allied to daring bold.

Time rolls his flight, and mom and eve.
And months and years their changes leave ;
The Mighty Ruler of the sky
Gives out to man his destiny.
Scattering from his prophetic hand.
Blessings and sorrows on the land.

MONTAUK. 57

Years passed, their shadows lightly fell
On growing wood and laughing dell ;
Upon the hills the tall pines grew,
Ahove their tops the eagle flew ;
The violet blossomed in the grove,
The spring bird sang its song of love.
And nature's face was as fair and green.
As Time on his journey e'er had seen.

A change, oh what a change, has come

Upon Sewanna's joyous home ;

A change in all, in deed and word,

A change upon her home and lord.

Of old his arrow pierced the deer,

Where far Noyack's low pines are drear ;

Or brought the wild duck from the sky.

Whose whistling wing proclaimed it nigh.

Ofttimes when twilight dim and gray

Told of the slowly coming day.

Upon the barren sands he lay.

That part the ocean from the bay,

And saw from off the water's &ce,
8

58 LEGENDS OP

Pass rapid to their feeding placa^
The countless fowl whose home is found
Where ocean's many billows sound.
He chose the fattest of the throng
That o'er his head poured fast along ;
His lodge was ftdl, and from his fire
None hungry needed to retire.

Why sits so still Weeoncombone,

The maidens sing in plaintive tone ;

The sun is rolling down the sky.

The shades rf night are drawing nigh.

Swept is his lodge, and by his side

How sadly sits his patient bride.

Why speaks so low Weeoncombone,

His voice has lost its haughty tone ;

There is no light upon his brow.

Quenched is the flame that burned but now ;

No soul of fire his eye reveals ;

What power his mighty heart conceals.

Or with mysterious strength can bind

The fiery warrior's restless mind.

MONTAUK. 59

By the sign, and by the token.
Words unblessed have been spoken ;
And the charms his life that bind.
Are not of a mortal mind.
On the hills the conjuror dwells,
Dreaded are his secret spells,
Where Culloden's head is gray.
With the dashing waters^ spray.
There he makes his bed at night.
Sleeping in the pale moonlight.
Who will meet the wizard king
That has power such spells to bring ?
Beard him in his den at length.
And defy his magic strength ;
Send an arrow through his brain.
That perchance may turn again.
On the heart of him who first
Sent it on the man accursed ;
As the lightning from the cloud.
Driven by the thunder loud,
Pauses on its fiery track
And as sudden glideth back.

60 LEGENDS OF

Hiding in its sable sbroud
In the bosom of the cloud.

The shadows of the night lay still.
And gently slept on vale and hill ;
When three brave youth virho vowed to save
Their warrior from a living grave,
Passed towards the wizard's home afar.
That lay beneath the northern star :
Their stealthy footsteps hardly lieard
The wandering fox or listening bird.
There is a ring around the moon
Foretelling fates impending soon ;
The murmurs from the sea that rise,
Float mournful to the lowering skies ;
The wolf is howling by his cave.
The loon's wild notes are on the wave.
What man of flesh and blood can hear
Omens and portents strange, nor fear.
Faith may be shadowed in the brain
That melts like vapor into rain.
When fears prophetic move the mind

MONTAUK- 61

Like things that dimly pass behind.
No fears the youthful warriors move.
Or omens from beneath, above ;
Naught but the hand of death may stay
Their course, or check their onward way.
They stood beneath the tree whose shade
Upon his hut the moonlight laid ;
Where, when he left the open air.
The dreaded conjuror made his l^r ;
They stood beneath his low abode,
By other footsteps never trod j
No traces of the wizard king.
Fled as the bird on frightened wing.
His course full well the followers knew.
And hardly deigned the track to view ;
Like generous hounds of scent so true
You scarce would deem them to pursue.
While bounding on their lightsome way.
The footprint of the flying prey ;
So westward swept the chase afar.
While faintly shone the morning star.

62 LEGENDS OF

And swift Aurora's joyous flight,
Already touehed the hills with light.

On Nommonock's bold ridge they stood.
Beyond the rolling Hither Wood ;
Their curious eyes ran o'er the sand
Of lone Neapeague, the water land ;
Then bounding down the steep descent
Across the barren plain they went.
On Acabonick's pebbled shore
With fidntest voice the waters pour j
So light the murmurs float away.
They seem to die along the bay ;
Yet did its low soft whii^r cheer
The conjuror on his path of fear.
Till by a flowery vale he stood.
That crossed the rude and tangled wood.
How came the flowery vale to lie
Where only forest shades are nigh ?
What mean the joyous plants that rest
Upon its bosom gaily dressed 1
A bubbling spring its course divides.

MONTAUK. 63

Softly the murmuring water gUdes,
Till with ceaseless flowing far away
It hideth in the tranquil bay.
Beside the vale the conjuror stood
And eager viewed the tangled wood ;
He heard the crackling twigs behind,
A warning of the sighing wind.
And knew the foe no farther back
Came like the death-bound on his track.
A moment on his swarthy face
Fierce passions lit their burning trace.
Then dread, and terror, and despair,
As quickly wrote their being there.
Something there was within his eye
That fate's last struggle might defy.
Yet like a fast expiring flame
With flickering light it went and came.
Men tsay that in that dreadful hour
He struggled with the tempter's power.
And that the misty cloud that rose
Above the flowery vale's repose.
And slowly sprang to meet the day.

64 LEGENDS OF

In flesh and blood bore him away.
His swift pursuers paused to hear
The wild cry of despair and fear,
That rent the vapor^s folding shroud,
Like thunder struggling through the cloud.
Fast rolled the sounding cry along
By Litganee's low murmuring song ;
Towards Noyack's distant wood it died,
Unkenchie^s rippling shore beside ;
Meshomac heard, and the glittering side
Of Manchonock at even-tide.

The flowery vale you still may sec,
Beyond the quiet Litganee ;
Where years ago the wizard came
And vanished in the cloud and flame.
And men still say that every year
When the lone woods are brown and sear^
And dismal winds are sighing low
O'er forests fading sad and slow,
The traveler late at night may hear

MONTAUK. 65

The wild whoop of the conjuror,
And timid neighbors fear to follow,
In the dim light of eve, " the Whooping Boys'
Hollow/*"

Joy to the music of the birds,'^ that come
Upon the autumn wind, firom their far home :
Joy to their rustUng wings fast passing by,
And gladsome forms traqed on the tranquil sky.
In countless roving flocks, they settle down
Upon the short-browsed hills like meadows mown ;
Chase through the grass already brown and sear,
The last poor insect of the waning year ;
Or high aloft in lengthened lines they fly,
With heedless haste to greet the southern Aj.
O'er Fithian's plains when eastern winds prevail,
In gathering crowds the gentle plover sail ;

66 LBGBNDS OF

With curious eye inspect tbeir £sediag place^
And then as quick their fimner path retrace.
Mark how they sink along the extended plain,
As distant far you stretch and look in yain;
Till o^er the bounding hills with sudden rise,
Their glancing plumage glitters on the skies.
With lengthened flight they surely turn again.
And surely trace once more th' inviting plain ;
Backward and fOTward patiently they fly.
Till some choice spot attracts their leader's eye ;
Then settling down, their nimble feet explore
The grassy tufts for Autumn's treasured store.
Nor these alone the fruitful plains supply ;
Hark! to the sounding call, high up the sky,
Of the Great Tell-tale slowly passing by.
With clamorous answer, all the marshy ground
Wakes into life and sends the echo round.
Now stooping from bis lofty flight with oare^
Downward he glidetb like a falling star,
Swiftly the glassy lake he passes o'er,
And with raised wing lights cm the sloping shore.
In flocks of countless numbers, to and fro

MONTAUK. 67

The gentle Peeps and timid Frost-birds go ;
Settling in crowds upon the grassy plain,
And scarcely settling ere they rise again.
The giant Fute and wary Curlew fly
With steadier wing among the smaller fry.
Hark to the murderous gun ! and iar and near.
The universal throat of discord hear.
O'er all the plains, wild-startled at the sound,
From frightened flocks the hurried notes resound :
But mark, far on the swelling hills that rise
From the fair plains to meet the northern skies,
There sits the Eagle ; proud and silent king
Of all that cleave the air on feathered wing ;
Upon a blasted, tree perchance the last
Of spreading forests in the ages past.
Still is his wing and calm his flashing eye.
That heeds not, if it notes aught passing by.
But now from far the quick report resounds.
From hill to hill the flying echo bounds ;
With head half raised he views the flight below,
In wild confusion driven to and fro.
Along the hills the timid Curlew fly,

68 LEQENDS OF

With hasty wing to shun the danger nigh ;
Breasting with easy stroke the steep ascent ;
Easy for all save one now well-nigh spent.
See how the poor bird &ils upon the wind !
Lefl by his swift companions far behind ;
Steady though dow he feels his vigor fail,
To scale the hill will all his strength avail ?
Lo ! now the Eagle cleaves his liquid way.
Falling like light upon his distant prey.
Yet no exulting notes his deed proclaim ;
Silent he flies as if in very shame.

Delightful Kongonoek ! thy tranquil rest
Takes the sear leaf of autumn, to its breast.
From the far hills chased by the blustering wind.
Within thine arms a hcmie its wanderings ^d.
There^ like a fairy's boot it floats awhile.
Till rippling waves its tender structure spoil;
Then as the foundered ship, to rise no more
It sinks beneath the wave or idly beats the shore*
Where bleak CuUoden lifts its hoary brow.
O'er foaming rocks that line the shore below.

mONTAUK. 69

«

Hark ! to the quivering wings tkat swiftly fty,
WU^ autumn twiligbt gilds the eastern sky.
The Golden^ Eye, whose sounding pinions wake
On either side the echoes ef the lake ;
The heavy Brant and Grey Duck modest drest>
The painted Widgeon, with the russet crest,
And Teal lightr^ringing through the tranquil air.
In the fast passing shades to the still lake repair.
There while the morn its early glory Aings,
Ere her swift car from the broad ocean s^ngs;
With patient toil they search the reedy shore,
Or underneath the fruitful fields explore.
How changed are all save thee. Oh quiet lake I
No more wild cries of war thine echoes wake ;
Gone are the embowering trees, beneath whose

shade
At dusky eve the Indian lovers strayed ; ;

The deer is fled that swam thy liquid pool.
Chased by the ravening wolf, with leap and howl ;
Gone all thine old mementos; yet remain
Unchanged thy placid smiles beside the nient plain.

70 LBaBNI>fi OOP

What icdeiiin thoughtE are with the buried dead t
Whether they sleep in grassy church-yardaJaid^
Or itt the massive vaalt, or sculptwed tomh^
Whose voiceless chambers wait in silent gktom.
Here is the burial^ound^-^how stiU they rtit {
The d^ad of other days eramUing to dasL
Rude stones unchiseled marik: the holy spot^
Already by the living half fbigot ;
Cheerful upon the hilkade^ gathering here
The feeble sunbeams of the waning year ;
Wooing in spring the early fictile ray.
With grateful warmth upon the mouldering clay.
Above the swelling earth the green griss waves^
The meek-eyed'° plover hides among the graves.
And gaily springs to cleave the liquid air.
With mellow whistle half devoid of fear.
H09V have the living spirits passed away
That gave of old life to the slumbering day I ,
Where are the glorious thoughts, the lofty aims.
That woke and struggled with their mortal fiwmas ?
And where the dwelling oi the quenchless mind^

MONTAUK. n

Whom deaths strong grasp &ib in his streiigth ta

bind?
Close by this ancient grave-yard^ farther down^
With curioos eye behold th' imprinted'^ rtone ;
And close beside^ the pool whose waters clear
Grow fresh and sparkling all the livelong year.
Here, as the tale is told o( olden time,
A warrior fled dii^ffated by treacherous erime^
Upon the flittty lock his foot he pressed,
And to the ncMrUi wind bared his shaggy breast,
Then with a mighty bound he forward sprang,
With his last cry the hill and valley rang,
The opening earth received him to its dead.
While bubbling waters flowed above his head ;
And still the living fountains rise and spring.
And the [Mrint on the rock stands its witness to bring.

Autumn with shortening day and paler sun, ■■ -
And changing flower and leaf, came slowly on ;
Each mom I woke to see the shadows &1I,
Higher and higher on my chamber wait ;
The deep bhie sky, and strength-reviving wind.

72 LBGBNDS OF

Came like an iiu^iratioD o'er tbe mifid ;
And yet I waited, lingered for the sweep
Of the wild tempest o'er the heaving deep.
To one whose ear is open, and v^ose eye
With right conception Views the changing «ky.
And signs at mom and eve, in air and earth.
Nature becomes a prophet speaking truth ;
The birds are wise in knowledge, even the worm
Hides in the earth to bide the ccmiing «turm.
Hark ! to the sighing wind, and see at last.
Hie tbin-yeined clottds hide the prophetic w«sl;
In mimic whirlwinds all along the path,
The parched dust of summer flies the earth.
Then comes the storm, gathering its powers by night;
And wildly nging with the morning light.
Great power of waters ! how the island shakes 1
While on the shore the crested surf- wave breaks ;
The everlasting sea, seen far below •
From the tall oliflb, is white as driven snow; *

Roll the huge billows high o'er dry Netpeague,
Her thirsty sands are drenched a foaming league,;
The rocks and lovely riiade of Nonunonock,

MONTAUK. 73

Tremble and quake beneath the ceaseless shock :

The raging tempest through the Hither Wood,

Shouts to the Storm-god of the angry flood :

Battered Culloden on his iron gate,

Seems with delight yet fiercer blows to wait.

The tall stem cliflfs that hear the billows roar.

From the far point along the southern ^ore.

Sink from their towering height beneath the wave,

Whose wild confusion is their watery grave.

Oh yet a little longer, still pour on.

Spirit of storms ! o'er firm Wamponomon ;

Drive the swift mists, from ocean's face that spring,

like billows o'er the land on hastened wing.

Here will I rest me on the farthest verge,

Strong to resist the wild Atlantic's surge,

Catch the first breath of swiftly-traveling air.

From dim Manisses in her foam-rocked lair ;

And listen to the notes, that loudly rise

From sea and tempest to the shrouded skies*

Come unto me, breath of the raging air.

Fall, stormy rain, swift clouds your gates unbar;

Rise, ocean mists, and chase the flying wind
10

74 LEGENDS OP

Like ghosts that flit across the wandering mind :
Dash foamy spray, and fling your sparkling gems,
Brighter than stones in kingly diadems.
Wake, Oh my soul, and see the glorious birth
Of storm and ocean and the wrestling earth.
Hail to the sea and storm ! the mountain throne.
And stars dim-traveling o'er their mighty zone ;
Gdd speaks in all his wonders, let me hear
The awful whisper sounding in my ear.
All that hath power or vastness, be to me^
The presence manifest of deity.
A ship upon the waters, in the cloud
Of spray and winged mist, wrapped like a shroud.
Sunk all her shining canvas o'er the main.
Save the reefed topsail for the flying train.
Hark ! in the wild commotion, from afar
How the rude spirits sing through rope and spar,
in vain — no ear save fancy's hears the cry.
Loud uproar reigns and stunning tumult nigh.
In sheltered coves the wary sea-fowl lie^
Watching the tempest with experienced eye :
The battered Peeps and Plover, seek the grass

MONTAUK* 75

That waves luxuriant o'er the wild morass ;
Trees rock and bend before the rising gale,
Like tapering spars, pressed by the extended sail ;
All nature feels the tempest, owns the power
Of wild disorder in its raging hour.

Night came with rayless darkness, and I heard
Clear as the tramp of war to battle stirred^
The falling of the billows one by one,
That shook the beacon to its topmost stone.
And when slumber with leaden eye came on.
And hushed and mingled all wild sounds to one,
Dimming the clear outgoings of the soul.
Still, thought that never slumbers held control,
And with young Fancy, maid divinely fair,
Ran riot through the worlds of earth and air.
Forever labor. Oh untiring thought !
With bright-eyed Fancy sometimes come to naught.
Laughing through all her gorgeous halls of light.
Where scenes unreal wake real delight j
Walk through the years to come, like prophet sage.
And catch the brightness of the coming age ;

76 LEGENDS OP MONTAUK.

With Inspiration, child of heavenly birth.
Flee the uncertain light of clouded earth.
Stand on the hills by love-led angels trod.
And bow thrice-blessed, at the throne of God.
Nor idle wander only, glorious thought !
Strive in all labor, in all wisdom sought.
Swell the full heart of love, that throbs to share
The pains and sorrows which the afflicted bear ;
Toil for the million, stay the curse of sin.
Labor and pray to let the blessing in ;
And when, like mist at morn, life fades away.
Up-springing to the light of coming day.
Wake then, undying thought, from all that dies.
Where the rude wreck of time in ruin lies.
Wake with the angels, whose inquiring eye
Shines in the light of God, no more to dim or die*

PART III.

**I waa a ipirit in the midBt of theae.** — ^MonrooicnT.

Thoughts, both real and unreal.
Are the progeny of sleep,
Swarmhig in her fruitful chambers.
Where restraint no vigil keeps ;
Sometimes, like an inspiration.
Gathering up the thread of life.
Merry in its mirth and pleasure,
Frowning in its dark-eyed strife ;
And sometimes^ in graphic vision.
Picturing as the real h'fe.
Stranger phantasies than ever
In the maniac's mind were rife ;

78 LEGENDS OF

Dveelling in the past and present,
And with fearless hand and heart.
From the holy future ages,
Drawing wide the veil apart.
While the tempest shook the island.
And the night outvied the day,
In the arms of mighty slumber.
Like a nurse-rocked child I lay ;
But a vision, more than worthy
Of the glorious sounds I heard.
Mingled with the rising voices,
And my inmost being stirred.
Listen while I tell the vision.
It is fresh within my brain.
And I almost pray for gladness,
I may never dream again.

The past with me was perished j and I woke.
Like Adam, when full-orbed creation broke
Upon his new-born wonder ; nothing strange.
Or stranger than all things, was in the change ;
I had forgotten all that came behind.

MONTAUK. 79

And unastonished rode the viewless wind,
Walked the fair caverns of the deep, and heard
Its melody of waters gently stirred ;
Or passed, like swift-winged angels, far along
Where rolling planets wake immortal song.
More than all this, with deeper joy, I held
Communion with all spirits of the world ;
Talked with the Genii of the flood and air,
Heard all the murmurs that were whispered there j
Heard all, knew all, and yet was strangely free.
Naught of all things that were was aught to me.

Moved by that secret sympathy which binds

Even in the dream-land, earth to earth-born minds ;

Under an ocean cliff alone

I lay, watching the storm.

That shook its noble form.

From its sea-washed base to the topmost stone :

Spirits of earth, ocean and air.

All abroad in the tempest were.

80 LEGENDS OP

There's a lull of the whirlwind, I hear on the deep
The song of the dead in the ocean that sleep ;
They are many, they are many, in their light-rolling

car,
As it driveth along on the swift-flying air.
And their voices are strange to all save me.
As they shout with the tempest or hum to the sea.

CHORUS OF SPIRITS.

We're a merry band of brothers met,

Every one out of the sea,

Our bodies are laid

In the ocean shade,

And our spirits wander free.

In the depths of the ocean home they say.

Are coral grottoes fair.

But more than these, brothers, we love

The upper world of air.

We drank of the sea when the north wind blew,

And the icy spirit hid,

MQNTAUK. 81

With slippery hand each rope and spar.

Under its crystal lid.

And our n^mb hands over the cordage slid.

Here and there one, not all together.

In the raging storm, and in smiling weather.

On our car the foam-drops rest.

Glittering gems from ocean's breast.

Tinted spray, with colors meet.

Folds its drapery round our feet.

And the tempest lendeth its wings to bear

Our burden aloft through the flying air j

Or we gently glide when winds are low.

With the song of the ripple under our bow.

We're a merry band of brothers met,

Our songs to the deep we sing,

And mortals listen in breeze and storm.

And say 'tis the wild wind's wing ;

But they carelessly hear the song of the dead.

Of the ocean dead who sleep

Beneath the brine, on the knotted line

A hundred fathoms deep.
11

82 LEGENDS OF

FIRST SPIRIT.

I had traveled far and fearless,
O^er the glorious ocean's face.
And I loved its every motion,
Tranquil breeze or restless chase ;
Oft I gazed upon its bosom.
Dreaming what its secrets were.
When it slept so still and tranquil
In the balmy summer air ;
Yet I loved it more and better
When the tempest shook its wing,
And the black and angry water
Like a charger seemed to spring.
Yet I love thee, glorious ocean,
Though my mortal body hide.
Where the frowning coast of Norway
Looks upon the restless tide.
Ride on brave car, I shall sing in the ear
Of many who die like me.
When the tempest's breath

MONTAUK, 83

Wraps the ship in deaths

And their ghosts flit over the sea.

The north wind blew coldly.

We lay like a wreck.

And the drops of spray frozen.

Slid off from our deck.

How, the tempest drove us onward.

While our bodies, lame and stiff.

Bound along the ship dismantled.

Floated towards Luffoden's cliff.

Wet and weary, dull with hunger.

When its frowning beacon rose.

Dim amid the mists of ocean,

like a giant in repose ;

From the score of living beings.

Struggling for the woe of life.

Not a cry of fear or terror

Witnessed to the anxious strife.

Yet in every earnest bosom.

As we neared the dreaded shore,

Hope that had not ceased its burning.

Feebler flamed than heretofore.

84 LEGENDS OF

In the foaming waste of waters,

Striying with my latest breath,

There I left my mortal body

To the watchful eye of death.

Little I dreamed, when stiff and cold

The north wind chilled me through,

That I should glide in my spray-girt car.

Over the ocean blue ; *

Or laugh on the wings of the tempest dread,

While I sing to the winds the song of the dead.

In the ear of the maiden.

Whose lover will come.

On the breeze rudely blowing

In peace to his home ;

And who smiles from her casement.

Out on the sea,

I sing pleasant music,

A song bold and free ; ♦

And she blesses the voice of the loud-sounding wind.

And looks for the ship that lingers behind.

Yet the same tone is sad

To some poor stricken form.

MONTAUK. 86

Whose last stay and helper

Now battles the storm;

And she trembles to hear the tone of the blasts

As it rattles the door^ hastening furious past.

I am the spirit that to the wind

Giveth its utterance clear ;

Its beautiful tone

As we travel on.

Mortals lone to hear ;

On land and sea, '

They listen to me.

And only cowards fear.

We're a merry band of spirits met.

Each one a work to do.

Brothers of earth, as we travel on

We sing our songs to you j

Busy forever, never in vain

Toiling o'er earth and the restless main.

86 LEGENDS OF

SECOND SPIRIT.

When the south wind blows softly.

The low ripples come

O'er the still face of ocean,

like love to its home ;

They glide where the rounded stones

Lie on the sand,

And the voice of their music

Is low on the strand.

The surf beating momently

Time for the sea,

Down in its beaded foam

Whispers to me ;

Under its hoary brow.

Fast driving to and fro.

The rolling pebbles of ocean go ;

And out of the deep a music is heard

That beareth no likeness to mortal word.

Last to its sounding roar.

When the wild waters poiu-.

MONTAUK- 87

Fierce on the stormy shore ;

And tell me if aught in earth or air.

With the changeable notes of the surf compare,

I to the soulless water give

Its tones of music, words that live,

And to man's wearied path impart

The songs of the sea to cheer his heart.

THIRD SPIRIT.

In graves of earth the dead are laid.

Over them waves the willow's shade,

And if beautiful flowers are springing there.

What for these do the ^lumberers care?

Under the ground they sleep in vain.

They shall not wake to life again.

Till their mouldering bodies crumbled away.

Hear the call of the judgment day.

Over their bones the earth-worms crawl.

And the rains of winter patter and fall,

Oozing through the damp cold clay.

88 LEGENDS OF

Where in silence they moulder away ;
Yet they pity the ocean dead who sleep
Down in the caves of the changeless deep ;
And seem to doubt in their hearts of fear.
If the hand of the Lord be everywhere.

To the spirit of cold I listened awhile,

For he sang how his dreary domain

By the walls of night, held many a sight

Worthy his powerful reign.

He rode on a throne of glittering ice.

And its burnished pomp was a choice device,

Veined vnth green and deep-sea blue.

Whose changeable tints were the water's hue.

UONTAVK. 89

SONG OF THE COLD.

By my power, at the word of the Lord,

Crystals of mow ou the earth are poured ;

Beautiful beings out of the sky,

Falling upon our world to die.

Sometimes when the air is still,

And silence listens on plain and hill,

Dropping on tree and bush and stone,

Till a robe of white over all is thrown.

Under the snow, the laurel green.

And larch, and fragrant pine are seen ;

Then the north wind cometh on.

And the beautiful sights of the snow are gone ;

Shaken from every loaded bough,

Fiercely driven to and fro.

Idly it whirleth round and round.

Fearing to fall on the frosen ground.

Or hides away in crevice and nook.

Where the howling blast forgets to look.

The waters that leap from their mountain bmie,
12

90 LEGENDS OF

•

I freeze to a pillar of silver foam ;

On its side with slanting ray

The pale light shines through the shortening day^

Yet not a crystal gem on its face,

Can the power of the heat-giving son efface.

I chill the life of the flowing stream,

Till like a stone its waters seem ;

And the ear on the surface, listens in vain

For the drops running back to ocean again.

Hoary old wastes of ocean ! tell

My power in the realms where I love to dwclL;

Out of the deep like mountains I bring

Crags that know no summer or spring ;

In the brilliant land of cold,

Never their dazzling sides grow old.

For the gathering snows Ml every day.

And I glue to their feet the ocean spray.

How many years has the fallen snow

Piled on the iceberg's chilly brow.

Where beneath Bootes train,

It layeth its head to rest on the main.

Man cannot count its tale of years.

MONTAUK. 94

For the hardened snow Uke the ice appears.

Both are frozen, turned to stone,

And the crystal flakes and the ice are ooe»

Unto my ffome, the lightning's flame

And echoing thunder never came ;

Yet there waketh sometimes a voice as loud

As ever broke from the parted cloud*

I thunder in my still domain.

When the depths of the ice are rent in twain.

Man loveth not my desolate home.

Yet his restless feet to my altar come,

Searching the secret place of the cold.

Which his eager eye shall fail to behold.

Impotent man shall never climb

Where the hills of ice are as old as time.

Round about my regal throne

Walls and battlements are strown.

And I dwell in my pride and pomp alone.

Many a secret thing is hid

Under the ocean's frosty lid ; >

Ships and men in my kingdom sleep.

Who are neither the dead of the earth or the deep ;

9H LBGSNDS OF

I have bifiried them one and My

Not with book, or moomers, or pall ;

In the cabin and hold they lie,

Every one as he chanced to die, ^

Some are crouching over the fire.

Where they watched its flame expire,

Or with pen in hand give eaniest heed,

Writing a tale that none shall read ;

And tiie paper lies on the tablenstand^

Just as it did when I stopped their hand.

Hundreds of years, and there cometh no change.

The muscle is foil, and the light blue rtin

Over the temple shall yet remain,

Only the look of the eye is strange :

In the eye of rision the spirit lives,

Wonderful power its bright light gives.

And I cannot save the beautiful eye.

For the spirit of man shall never die.

I have heard the breath of summer sing

How delicate flowers in his kingdom ^ing,

How the green leaves wave on the forest trees,

And softly move when he wakes the hreeae.; *

MONTAUK.

But where on the earthy can you fifid a sight
Like the penciled work of the frost at night.

There is a place in the heart of the deep^
Where the waters of ocean never sleep ;
Over it hangs in the light of day,
The bow of hope on a cloud of spray ;
And the troubled billows foam and pour
On the rocks below with a changeless roar.
Who ever saw the whirlpool drink
The ocean wave from its eddying brink !
Or with triple ^"^ courage, steered his boat
Where the wrecks of the billow fear to floi^.
I sat on the cloud of foam and spray
That over the pool in the shadows lay,
And saw the struggling waters leap,
like Haydon's war-horse,^ into the deep-;

H LEGENDS OF

Yet I heeded little the rushing wave^

Or the waters that sank to a bottomless grave*

Round about, and round about,

In the foam and spray and out,

Spirits were gliding.

From me never hiding.

Circling round the line of foam

That marks on the sea their restless home.

CHORUS OF SPIRITS.

We are avengers

Qf the deeds of the sea.

Wherever man goeth

We fail not to be ;

And we read in his heart

Thoughts that fallow to crime.

And watch for their fruits

In the growing of time.

The waters sink

From the whirlpool's brink.

MONTAUK. 96

Down, down, down ;

Underneath

Is the land of death,

Where the dead erf the sea, unworthy to ride

In their glorious car o'er the foamy tide,

Like the useless weed are thrown.

While ocean waits in its restless bed.

Listening to hear the sure decree.

By the word of the Lord, there is no more sea,

Sorrow and gloom are over their head ;

Time lives when hope is fled.

Thundering billows, foam and pour.

Brothers, we pass the waters o'er.

Bring the mortals Circed'* with crime.

Hopeless in the love of time.

Heave them over the whirlpool's brink.

Where the foaming water's sink.

96 LBGBIIDS QF

FIRST SPIRIT.

Who krreth not the mother that bare him !
Though her eye be old and dim ;
Comes not oft^ when age or sorrow
Clouds the pleasant light of the morrow^
Sitting by her side to cheer
The weary hours of life's waning year.
By the gates of the sea^
Where the navies of ocean ride.
Rocking on the changing tide.
Up and down heavily,
I saw one of the children of mirth
Eagerly wooing the pleasures of earth {
Carelessness laughed in his broad blue eye.
And he lived as if he were never to die.
By him was the sparkling cup.
Wanton fingers took it up.
Placed it to his very lip.
And he could not help but sip.
Though he knew the flowing bowl

MONTAUK* 97

Was a stake against his souL

Dalliaace lapped his life in bliss.

With her love-ensnaring kiss.

And her mildew on the heart,

Blighting all its holy part ;

Till his conscience heeded not God above ;

And how could he think of his childhood's lovel

Far, far away ;

In another land, and another clime,

Walking slow by weary old Time,

Followed by want from day to day.

Whose lean hand ever on her shoulder lay ;

His mother looked o'er the spreading sea.

For the child she had cradled on her knee.

And lay awake of nights to hear

The winds howl over the waters drear,

I pointed him out when he strove with the sail

That flapped in the arms of the strong-wrest^

ling gale.
And it flung him down on the bubbling foam.
One more spirit to the ocean home ;

Yet not in their glcnrious car to ride,
13

LKGBNDS aF

In calm or stonn, o'er the flowing tide.

Down to the whirlpooFs deepest cell

I throw him ;

There let him dwell.

No one to know hka j

Let him not hear

In his hours of fear.

Even a sigh that moveth cheer ;

Where solitude hroods o'er het weary reign.

And anxious silence listens in vain.

A ship on the ocean ! no car of the dead,
A ship on the ocean ! her flag overhead.
Every sail fully set, not a reef-point is there, ;
Fdre and mizzen, main and jib, every one is draw-
ing fair,
To the sky-sail that hangs on its tapering spar.
Through the mantle of foam that is spread mt the
deep, ■ ■' ^ i

MONTAUK. 99

Lying over in the tempest, see the gallant vessel

sweep ;
True and fair she cleaves the water, not an arm on

her wheel.
Riding o'er the foaming billow as if angels blessed

the keel ; •

On her sides the spray and vapor beat likeshoweitt

of sunmier rain,
And the wind that moves the ocean straggles witik

her sails in vain.
Swinging on the straining yards, gliding down th«

slippery mast.
Loud they laugh in mirth and frolic, while the tem*

pest shouteth past.
Tell me, ye who know the ocean, who are these

that sail so bold.
And while tempests rage and thunder, fear nor teiv

ror seem to hold.
Tis the phantom ship ; that in darkness and wrath
Ploughs evermore its waste ocean path; '*:

And the heart of the mariner trembles in dread.
When it crosses his vision like a ghost of the dead.

100 LBQSNDB OP

CHORUS OF SPIRITS.

Gather storms, Oh wasting ocean,
Bcdl your foaming biUowi^ high.
Night with cloijd and pall of darkness^
Veil in gloom .the guiding sky ;
Storm and sky and hastening water,
Itise against our path in vain.
Idle all your sounding warfare,
Fr?e wo course the ruined main.

Wail, oh winds, a mournful requiem.
O'er the great funereal deep.
While they pessi in countless numb^r%
To their long forgotten sleep.
From our number none shall perish.
We are masters of the, wave.
And the rolling floods that mock u%
Nevermore shall be cm grave.

J /

MONTAUK. 101

Rise^ Oh ship, to breast the billow,
Crowd aloft the shivering sail.
Drive where ere our fancy leads us,
Stronger than the sounding gale ;
Hoary mists fall thick and heavy.
Winds opposing, howl and rave,
Nothing stays our gallant vessel,
Riding o'er the heaving wave.

SECOND CHORUS.

We are all here,

All the ghosts that mariners fear.

Bred on the waters, finding our home

Every where that the billows roam ;

Merry or grave, bold and free,

A jovial band of spirits are we.

Does not the heart of the brave man fail.

And terror blanch his countenance pale.

As we sit on the end of the yard and the spar^

In circles of fire on the ominous air.

102 LEGENDS OF

Ha ! 'tis merry to see him cower.

Bold hearts shrink at our puny power.

That would laugh us to scorn, if they knew as we^

How feeble the spirits of ocean be.

Lay him down now on his hammock to rest.

Steadily rises his broad firm breast.

With an inspiration long and deep^

Such as betokens perfect sleep.

On his brow there is no care.

Thought with its lines is wanting there.

Muscle and sinew everywhere.

Over his head the thunder may burst.

The storm and the whirlwind do its worst.

Nothing shall mar his quiet rest.

Or the steady rise of his broad firm breast.

Whisper now, brother, in his ear,

And his quick pulse bounds with the throb of fear.

Trouble broods on his anxious brow.

And his arms are tossing to and fro.

Till he starts from his rest with a wilder^d gleam.

And looks for the ghost of his vanishing dream.

All the fancies vague and strange.

MONTAUK. 103

Hatching in the lonely brain.

Dreaming o'er the thoughtful main,

Superstition's witching train ;

Where the thoughts unbidden range,

Lingering in the world that is

Viewless unto those in this ;

All the dread of powers unfelt,

To which fear has ever knelt.

Hanging on the thought confined.

Like a nightmare of the mind ;

Brooding terror, rayless gloom.

Hastening to a changeless doom ;

To our gallant vessel come.

Joyous in their ocean home.

Merry and sad, gay and grave.

They own our power on the deep-sea wave.

Morn slowly came to close the glorious scene ;
Calm morn ; with deep blue sky, and air serene.
First fruit of autumn ; yet the unquiet sea
Worked in its overwrought bed tumultuously j

104 LEGENDS OF MONTAUK.

Like a proud charger champed its bit of foam,
And rolled its sounding wave in thunder home.
Farewell, Oh ocean ! many days thy roar
Has been my music, now to be no more j
Yet like a lover, in my heart of hearts
Thy presence goeth with me, joy imparts.
I shall not always leave the^ ; yet again,
God willing, I will hail thee, changeless main.
Farewell, Oh ocean ! would that thy great thought
Upon my inner life its power had wrought ;
Then up my soul, shake off the brooding dream,
life for mankind and God be now thy theme.
Stand in thy lot, strike for the truth and right.
Strike with full heart, God help thee in the fight ;
Still through the dust and strife of manhood's years,
Undimmed by all save wrong, a star appears.
Around it hope, with gentle halo plays.
And points and lures us on, through earth's dark

days ;
Till in the coming years, we hear the word.
And hail with joy, the " well done" of our Lord.

NOTES.

1. The hills that rise beside Neapea^e's lone waite.
Neapeague, signifies " the water land." In riolent storms the
waves break oyer it for miles in extent Nei^peafue Beach, is a long
sand bar connecting Montaok with Long Island. Seen from the Nom-
monock Hills it presents an appearance worthy of an eastern desert.

2. From wakening birds the early burst of song.
Few even of those who are accustomed to listen to the song of the
birds, are aware of the universal chorus which rises from forest, bush,
and field, with the early break of day. It is the only time when all the
feathered songsters unite in their hymn of praise, and its continuance is
so brief that not many shake o&' the slumbers of the night in season to
listen to its music.

3. Reared its bald head o'er Nommonock's far height!
The Nommonock Hills rise out of the sandy waste of Neapeague,
forming the bold and rugged outline of the western extremity of Mon-
tauk.

4. 3eawanhackee.
One of the Indian names of Long Island,

5. Joins Seawanhackee to " the hilly land*''
Mcmtauk^ or Montaukett, signifies " the hilly country,'* a name sug-
gested undoubtedly by its peculiar aspect
14

106 NOTES.

6. Are hid with thee.
Vessels, large fish, and other heavy bodies, are not unfreq^ent]7
brought in during violent storms, and either partially or wholly buried
under the moving sands of Neapeague. But a few years since, a comr
plete skeleton of a whale was imbedded upon the southern shore.

7. The deep still valleys.
The whole surface of Montauk is either valley or hill. In many
places so deep and precipitous are the valleys, that they seem more
like ravines, except for the delightful and verdant level always spread
out at the bottom.

8. Beneath the shadows of " the Hither Wood."
There are two tracts of woodland, known as " the Hither Woods,"
and " the Point Woods," Solitary and decajring trunks over aH the
country show that not many years since it was covered much more ex-
tensively and perhaps wholly with forest

9. Across Dotvn Neck, we sought ** the printed rock."
There are two or three rocks upon Montauk, containing each a
distinct and well wrought impression of the human foot The one here
alluded to, in the vicinity of the former burial place of the tribe, is per-
haps best known. They are supposed to have been carved as land-
marks.

10. Wamponomon.
The extreme eastern point of Montauk.

11. Broader and brighter like the good man's way.
" The path of the just is as the shining light, that shineth more
and more imto the perfect day."

12. To the deep music of the water's flow;
None who have stood by the surf and listened to the murmur of

N0TB8. lOT

the sUmefl morod by the retiring ware, eaa have failed to admire the
paeuliar melody which aeemi to epring out of the water*

13. With lingering st^e I sought the lonely home.
With the ezc^ytion of a few Indian hole, there are Ixit &fai
dwellings upon Montauk.

14. There is a valley &ir to view.
' The scene of the legend of Wyandannee, is laid in the vallij
stretching from the head of Kongonock, northeast towards the Sh8#-
wannock HiUs. It was the actual residence of the chief, and the events
recorded are historically true.

1& And sinks on his shoulders his beautifol head.
When the deer is started, and feels the necessity o£ mpd fligfati
with his head thrown back upon his shoulders, and his coQunon-f^aoe
and ungainly form moulded into Unes of grace and beauty, he fnresents
perhaps the finest picture of speed that the reahns of animated nature
afford.

, 16. ManchonocL

Gardiner*fei Island.

17. Still away, Meshomac lies,
Meshomac is the southeastern point of Shelter Island.

18. Manhassetts' warriors brave,
TheManhassetts occcupied Shelter Island.

19. And the brave of Unkenchie,
Unkenchie— One of the names of Shelter Island. Its more com-
mon name was Manhanseckahaquashawannuck.

20. For '* the Sachem's Hole," in the haunted wood.
For mai^ years "the Sachem's Hole" was shown ai one of Ihe

m KOTXIi.

iralkMoi ladittd kigtoty^ Tradition relate* thai wlien file cliiflf
of the ManhfiMette, who wa« brother to Wyandamiee, 'WBmbmemb afler
hk decease to be interred upon Montauk, those who carried the body,
laid it dowa to rest in the woods east of Easthanptem; end that where
the head of the chief lay, a hole m thef^imd waijexeavatedi to which
the tribe attached a peculiar sacredness. For oefktaries every individ-
ual as he passed, carefully cleansed the hole of its dirt and rubbish,
and seemed to ofier oiver it liis sileBt devotiMMu In the year 1846 the
layiBf oat of a new road absorbed forever this sacred memorial of Ibr-
aarafea.

21. Alas ! poor victims,
The lance, like the flying-fish of the ocean, finds no place of safety
from its numerous foes. Driven to the sur&ce by voracious fish, it
is there assailed by birds, and even in the shallow waters of the shore
it has numerous enemies, of whom by no meaas the most iodigaifieant
is the apparently inert and tardy cuttle-fish.

22. But to the upper air returned no more ;
The small Tern often dives with so much force and velocity, as
to remain completely submerged for several seconds. Ij^fuch cases it
is not unfVequently seized by some of the numerous fish I>ing in wait
for the lance or other prey whicli may chance to pass on the surface.

23. The pigmy Peeps along the waning year;
The Peeps are Wilson's Sandpiper, and receive various names
along the coast, as Peeps, Knee-deeps &c Any one who has bean by
tiie sea in spring or fall must have notu^ed their peculiarly guileless
and trusting look.

24. Manisses.
Block Island.

25. Tet round and round his flashing eye.
The txmer of life in the eye of the Eagle is woiid«M beyted

NOTES. 100

tdprenkm to thoM who have not witnessed it Even when paralysed
with wounds so that it eannot move mnsele or feather, the light of its
eye burns with full force and brilliancy ; thought and determination seem
triumphing in the imconquerable will, and when at last it fades like the j.
eooOng of burning metal, death has ahready supervened.

26. In the dhn light of eve, " the Whooping Boy's Hollow."
East of Easthampton a place is shown in the forest called the
" Whooping Boy's Hollow," where the credulous hear from time to
time ihe wild yell of an Indian apparently engaged in mortal combat
with some invisible foe.

27. Joy to the musie of the birds.
Early in autumn, the hills and sloping sides of Montauk, are
covered with the various birds of passage that follow the coast south-
ward. In the account here given of them , popular and local names are
adopted, rather than those known only to the scientific.

28. The Goldoi Eye, whose sounding pinions wake.
The Golden Eye, or Whistler— so called, not as many suppose'
from his peeuliar note, but from the shrill sound of his wings in flight

20. Here is the burial-ground,
A little to the west of Kongonock, in the Indian Field, is the
principal burying-ground of which any traces remain. It is not proba-
ble that its antiquity extends back further than the early settlements of
the whites upon Long Island. The mound and stcmes at the head and
ibot of the grave, indicate a civilized cmgin. Still neglect and solitude
give it an appearance which naturally carries the mind back to the
times when the funeral wall went up from every hill and valley.

30. The meek-eyed plover hides among the graves,
30. The Grass Plover, or Bertram's Tattler, is common upon Mon-
tauk during all the sunmier months. From the rank grass of the In-

110 NOTES.

dian Fieldy it risefl at almost eveiy step, and its " mellow whistle" is a
soft and pieasioig note, which every lover of nature delights to hear*

31. Behold th' imprinted stone ;
Near the Burial Ground is one of the foot-prints of which men-
tion is made in note 9. Near the foot-print is a perennial fountain or
pool, and as nothing remarkable can be shown in a country whose
history is lost, without a tradition attached to it, it is related that in the
eariy ages of the Montauk nation, one of the tribe, whose reputation
was ruined and life forfeited by some act of crime, fled to this spot, and
placing his foot upon the rock, sprang forward into the Yalley which
opened to receive him, while from the closing earth gushed forth a
spring which to this day has not ceased to flow.

32. Or with triple courage steered his boat,
nii robur et aes triplex
Circa pectus erat— Horacb.

33. Like Haydon's war-horse.
Allusion is here made to the magnificent war-horse of Haydon
descending with Curtius into the Gulf. The popular idea of the Mael-
strom is of course adopted, which supposes the waters in the center
of the whirlpool to make a precipitous leap downward into some un-
known abyss.

34. Bring the mortals Circed vdth crime.
The author hopes to be pardoned for the introduction of a word
designed to express the blind in&tuatbn with which the goddess i
supposed to possess her followers.

PENINSULA OF MONTAUK.

Long Island is generally considered about one hundred
and twenty miles long, measuring from its western extremity
near Coney Island to the point of Montauk. The island
proper, however, terminates at a line drawn across it from
north to south about three miles east of Amagansett. I do
not mean that the whole is not enclosed within Qne circuit
of water, but all west of this line is of one geological fornix
ation which here ceases with great abruptness, and is suc-
ceeded by the sandy waste of Neapeague and the rolling
hills of Montauk, seeming like portions of another country.
The western portion has been often described and to it we
do not purpose at present to allude. But the eaflftem pait
is comparatively little known. And though no portion of
our country is richer in legendary lore, though none affords
a more delightful retreat from the heat and bustle of the
city during summer, and though the whole lies within a vary

112 SOME ACCOUNT OF THB

few hours' ride of the great emporium of our western world,
still few persons are aware that a region so entirely unique
and yet so pleasant in its scenery, lies within their reach.
While Metacom, Sagnyn, Whathah and Thayendanagea
have furnished abundant themes for the historian and the
novelist, the name of Wyandannee is scarcely heard; and
though every school-boy can teU the story of the Pequots,
the Mohicans, and the Tuscaroras, not many know even the
land of the powerful tribes of Manhasset and Montauk.
Their insular position separated them from the great contests
which, while they swept their red brethren from the main
land, yet left them a name on the page of history. The
friendly disposition which their great leader always mani-
fested toward his white neighbors prevented the scenes of
savage strife which so often marked the intercourse of the
two races, and by slow degrees, unheard of by the busy
world, this once powerful people has melted away tiU of the
Manhassets not one is left, and of the Montauks probably
the last representative, a miserable vagabond, wanders over
the hills where his fathers held undisputed sway. The east
end of Long Island has, from its difficulty of access, been
to most travelers a complete terra incognita. We propose
therefore, in this place, to give a brief sketch of Neapeague
and Montauk, their formation, natural history, historical as-
sociations, and whatever else may seem to be of interest.

Passing about five miles eastward from the village of East
Hampton, and emerging from between the high and thick
hedges which have hitherto confined our view on either hand^

FBKINtULA OF.MONTAVK. 113

we find (MurselTM on a hill-side with a most nngular pros*
peot opening before ns, east, south, and west. To the east
irtretcbes a long waste of sandy plain, which seems to be
entirely level, though it is in fact moderately uneveut The
only elevations which break the perfect uniformity of its
surface are the sand-hills which, long ago, when the sand was
bare, were raised by the action of the wind. The view in
this direction is bounded by the first range of Montauk, the
Nommonock Hills* South of us, at the distance of about
half a mile, lie the restless waters of the ocean, seen only
at intervals between the high banks with which the beach is
bordered. Between us and the sea, and stretching also a
long way to the southwest, the view is like that on the east
Mcept that the surface is somewhat more uneven. This
dreary reach of barren sand, which joins the '* Hilly Land" of
Hotttauk to the main body of the island, is still known by no
other than the Indian name — Neapeague.* As seen firom
the qpot at whieh we imagine ourselves approaching it» or
still more favorably from the hills of the Hither Wood and
of Nommonock along its eastern border, its very aspect con^
veys at once to the mind an idea of its origin and formati(m«
It is almost impossible to resist the impression that the ex-
tended plain beneath us, reaching from the ocean on the
south to the equally open waters of Gardiner's Bay on the
north, and bordered east and west by hills which rise abrupt
ly from its edge, was once filled with water — thai in foot

15

114 SOlfB ACCOUKT or l»Hir

Montank was formerly va islandy while betweee H and Sea^
wanhackee the sea rolled clear and unbroken through a
strait fiye miles in width. And the mcnre carefully we ex-
amine the history and sIvuctiiTe of this snifalar region, the
more do we find to c<myince us that this opinion is the
true one*

The Indian n«ne Neapeague signifies the Water Land.
To be sore we cannot attach mnch importance to this akme,
but taken in connection with other £ftctSy it seems to A&w
that their traditions, if we could ascertain them, would sop*
port us in this belief.

' Another fact worthy of mention is, that the form and ex-
tinit of the Beach (in which term is inducted the whole space
of Neapeague) has changed Tcry much withm the memory of
man — the land encroaching continually upon the sea. On
the first rismg ground to the east, the commencement of the
hflhi of Montauk, stands a house winch was buiH a little
more than fifty years since. When it was boik, the line ef
the breakers along the shore of Neapeague ranged direotly
toward it, so that the foxes which then, as now, were in the
halHt of passing along the edge of the surf to pick up wfaat-
erer tiie waves might throw on shore, could be sem as far as
the eye could reach. Now, the land has so far finrtned
southward, that the breakers are not visible from the heoae^
being hid by the sand-hills which have accumulated, nd
the road across Neapeague undoubtedly passes over, what
was even then covered by the sea. The house stands now
between twenty and thirty rods from the diore. If the

Pl,%INtULA OF MOirVAUK. 115

beach Iu»mereated in width tbat much within fifkj jewtBf it
ii not difficult 4o understand what the same caases, operatiag
far a longer time preTioos, may have acoomplished. -

Another reason £^ snppoaing that Neapeagoe is merdy
an inlet whose waters have been stopped by sand is^that
snch occurrences are by no means rare. There are maiqr
instances along our own coast, andtiie aj^aranees which
tbey present are very similar to those in tiba case under C9n-
sid^ation.

In addition to this, we have the widely different stractaM
of Long Island and Montauk. So different indeed are tii0f »
Ih&t we can scarcely beUere they were originally parts of
4li» aame formation, and it seems even strange, that islands
sftoated so close together as they must of conise have been,
riiouU be so entirely dissimilar. The general . suifMse of
Long Island, and its geological character, are well knowv^
and it is not necessary here to afiude to them ; the appear*
aace of M^itauk wiH be presently described. It is safl^
cient for our present purpose to observe, that on no part of
enr eoast probably can we find, within the space of five imleat
siioh a total dissimilarity as exists between the region^ ^9M
and west of Neapeague^

The last £act which I shdl mention is one which of itaalf
seems to settle the oceanic and reeent origin of this saodf
plain ; it is the occurrence of matine remains at a grea4 dii*
tance from the shore, and in such preservation as to sbov
that the change which turned their old ocean bed to its pras*
entarid stii$e»n»usthavia been amongthe mofeMoenigaolog-

116 tOlll ACCOUNT OF THl

ical phenomena. I will not ipeak of the lighter ol^ecti^ m
■hells, ScCy which are easily transported and w4iichof courae
are sometimes, eren now, wariied far beyond their ordinary
Mmitsby the sea, as in storms it rolls nearly across the whole
width of the beach* Oth«r objects enst of much greater
weight, which nothing could have placed in the spots where
we find them, except the deep and rolling water of the open
sea. A £bw years since the entire skeleton of a whale xmgfat
be seen imbedded in the earth, more than half a mile fvom
the present margin of the beach, and close to the bolder of
the upland. The bones were not scattered as though they
had been dragged to their situation after the remoTal of the
flesh, bat lay nearly in their relatiye positions, showing plain-
ly that the body had been hore up by tibe surf, and bemg^imr-
ered with the sand, the gradual process of decay had left the
bones to bleach where they lay. They were very near the
surface, some of them in fact being partially exposed di)0¥e
ft) and were of coarse within reach of the action of the air.
But in place of being decayed, they exhibited very nearly ^e
qppi^arance of recent bones. This is not meBEtmied as an
isolated &et ; others might be stated of similar character,
though none in which the remains were like these in magtti-
tode. ' But the detail is unnecessary ; the hc% seema «b-
ipiestionable that a large part of Neapeagoe was ibntisd ky
the action of the water. And if a part, it is difficult to «i-
derstand why not the whole, for we find no }dace m wfaidi
the line of separation can be drawn.
Alsw wonlsaf description noW| may notJbei

PBiriNtVLA OV MOMTAUK. 117

Neapeagoe is about six lailes in length and three in width.
Its general surface is but little elevated above the ocean,
llioagh along the side nearest the sea, sand-hills have been
raised by the wind to the height oi fifteen or twenty feet, so
that in traveling across the beach the ocean is almost entire
ly hid from the view. Between these hills and through
them the surf breaks so heavily in storms as sometimes to
mingle its waters with those of, the bay along the northern
Aore. In the well known Septernber gale, channels were
cut in this way from the ocean to the bay, so deep that a
horse could scarcely cross them without swimming. These
however were soon filled again with sand and all traces of
them obliterated. But few trees are found on Neapeague,
and those which occur are mostly on the western part and
are of small size. In the same part we find numerous beach
phim bushes, the Prunus littoralis, whose fruit is much val
ued and furnishes no small profit to a part of the population
of Amagansett an4 Acabonick. Another plant which evMi
now is of much importance, and which might easily be in-
creased by cultivation to almost any extent, is the Cranberry
{Oastfcoccus macrocarpus) which spreads over a large por-
tion of Neapeague, and whose delicate vines, twining among
the grass or creeping over the sand, present at all times a
most beautiful appearance, whether decked with their flow-
ers of singular shape, or covered with the elegantly colored
fruit. Growing in company with this, though more abun-
dant on the drier parts oi the beach, are vast quantities of
Arte^ttf mHhursi — known very generally in the vicinity as

118 tOMB ACOOUNT OF T«S

Deer Feed. The ongin of thie appellatioa we are oUiged
to leave to coujecture, as there appears no eridence that the
Deer ever use it as food. The plant, bowev^ , is <iuite com-
mon, and on Neapeague particularly so, completely coraring
the ground in some parts, and presenting during autumn: s^
rery pleasant contrast between the dark green of the leaves
and the rich color of the fruit. The northern part of the
beach is penetrated by an arm of tibe sea, called Neapeague
harbor which is too shallow to allow of any vessels but these
of small draught entering it.

The only access to Montauk is by the way of Neapeag«e»
and the ride across it is always tedious in the extreme. The
depth of the sand renders the progress necessarily slaw, aod
an hour to an hour and a half after yoa leave the upland,
finds you still dragging wearily along the beach. Notiung
breaks the monotony of the scene, but the loud whistle of the
Tell-tale or the harsh scream of the Tern, and almost mth-
out cessation your attention is claimed by a sad anneyatooe^
common to all similar localities on our coast. It seems the
very father-land of the insatiate musquito, and unless a fa-
voring wind has swept them away, as is sometimes the case*
they literally fill the atmosphere. One consolation, howev-^
er, you may always have, when they are pouring in al iJm
aides, and when the back of your friend's coat, aa be sits a
front of you, is not visible, you are very soon to leai» themu
As you approach the end of the beach, their numbers dimiift^
ish, and before you have ridden a quarter of a mile upom
Montauk they have left you entirdy. The suddoMesjif

pmiristr^A ov moktavx. 119

Hm ehmge it always tlrikiiig. They leare your carriage as
Ibot]^ swept out by some invisible hand, and even tliose
friiieh have cIut^ to objects within, speedily disappear.
. Risiiig from Neapeague, we enter upon a district at onee
alnH^ and bi^utifol. On the left, stretching to the nortti-
wwt, are the Nommonock Hills, which form the eastern
b«wder of the beach, and east of them, rising higher still are
the bills of the Hither Wood. Over these latter the road
passes. Before we enter the woods, which cover their high-
est part, we will pause a moment,^or such a scene, we may
say without fear of contradiction, can no where else be
found. West of us lies the dreary waste of Neapeague,
stretching in its loneliness to the distant woods and rising
ground of Amagansett. Its surface seems an unbroken
level, and the question of its oceanic origin is settled with*
oat a word. The little harbor, imbosomed in its northein
half, seems (so narrow is its outlet) like a beautiful lake at
oar feet. The sandy shore sweeps out in a graceful curve,
while a little more distant the lovely Manchonock, (Mon-
d[M>n-go-nock) rests on the quiet surface of the bay. The
greater part of the space on the north is covered by the
Hither Woods, buried among which we can just distin-
gviishthe fair Quannontowunk, the first of the large fresh*
water ponds, which form such a striking feature of the
peninsula. Northeast and east, the woods shut out the
view. Southeast, we have a very fair representation of
tlie kSh of M&ntauh. Of these hiUs it is almost impossible
1«^Avey a oonreot idea. Rounded and lolliiig, bat in many

120 SOMB ACCOUNT OW THB

casei quite steep and abrupt ; not anraoged ia ndget, b«t
scattered apparently at random ; with no Wei land amoDg^
them, but deep cup-shaped hollows seeming like rer^nuid
copies of the hills themselves ; bare of trees and coTered
only with a smooth turf, as close as though it had bMn
shorn, their appearance is std generis. We cannot place our-
selves on any part of the extent which bears the name Moft*
tauk, without fully understanding the propriety of the name.
It is in truth a '' Hilly Land." From Nommonock to Wam-
ponomim the rolling surfacje is unbroken, except by the ponds
and one or two small spaces which are by courtesy callfid
plains. The highest of these hUls, in the western part oi
the peninsula, are those on which we are standing. With
one glance toward the south, where the unbroken expanse itf
ocean fills the view, we pass onward through the Hither
Wood. The dead trunks of aged trees, some standing and
some prostrate, the tokens of its former pride, give evidence
that its extent was once much greater than it is now. A
ride of two miles brings us again among the open hills, and
along them our road winds most beautifully, nowoverasumr
mit, and again down till our view on every side extends but
three or four rods at most, and then along the hill-side whem
it seems unsafe for any but a pedestrian to venture. Roond-
ing some low eminence, bebw us lies one of the thousaoni
little ponds which dot the surface of Montauk. Its cahn
waters, covered with the shining leaves and brilliant floweM
of the Nymphaea, or filled with the slender and ddicat*
Decodon, are perhaps disturbed by ^e nAiag ^foag #{ Hm

PXN1N8ULA or MONTAVK. 121

Teal or the Black Duck startled at our approach ; and later
id the season, that sound so sweet to a sportman's ear, the
loud honk of the wild goose, as he starts to his heavy flight,
denotes how seldom man disturbs these solitudes. A short
distance further, and we see the lovely Kongonock. Once on
its bosom floated a hundred light canoes, upon its eastern
border stood the main fortress of the tribe, and near at hand
their largest village. Now all of these are gone, but in its
name. Fort Pond, we trace a token of its former glory.
It is a beautiful sheet of water, stretching almost across the
island, the hills rising high and steep toward the northern
end, while around its southern portion is one of those small
tracts of level land to which allusion has been already made.
This is commonly known as Fithian's Plain. On it stands
the second of the four houses which are found on Montauk.
The third house is about four miles further east, the fourth
is at the Point. The land, between Fort Pond and the sea,
is so low that in storms the surf sweeps across it with some
violence. To prevent this a low embankment has been
constructed. The water of the pond is entirely fresh and
abounds with White Perch, {Labrax rafus,) On the east
side of the pond, about midway from north to south, rises,
very steep and abruptly from the water's edge, a rounded
hill, higher than any other near it. On this hill was the
great fort of the Montauks, and from it could be se^ the
beacon-light on Wamponomon. Commencing near its south*
em base, a deep valley stretches eastward, seeming almost

like a ravine. In this valley was the royal village of Wyan*
16 .

122 tOMX AOCOUNT OF THB

dannee, which was nearly destroyed on the night of the fierce
attack of Ninnigret or Janemo, when the power of the tribe
was broken, the daughter of the old chief carried away cap-
tprtj and her husband slain. The scene of the first tale of
the poem lies here and on the neighboring hiUs^ until the tide
of battle sweeps it westward. Shagwannock, (Shag-wom-
mon-uck) on which the signal-fires were kindled, is four miks
east, beyond the Great Pond. CuUoden is north of the val-
ley, bordering the bay and was quite noted a few years since
as the place of capture of the negroes of the Annstad.
There can be no question that two hundred years ago, in the
days of the Eagle of the Montauks, a mighty people centred
here, and here were gathered Uie flower and strength of
their nation. The tribes through the whole length oi Sea-
wanhackee paid their tribute here. The brave, the just, the
good Wyandannee, the lover of peace, the firiend of the
white man, ruled a happy race. But now, alas ! we loiter
in their lovely vallies, and the only sound we hear is the dis-
tant murmur of the sea. The frail structure of the wig.
warn has not more completely perished than the national
existence of the Montauks. Where thousands lived and
roamed in happiness over all these hills, now the most per-
fect and utter loneliness exists. At the death of Wyandan-
nee the glory of their tribe departed. Wee<mcombone was
far from mamtaining the high renown his father had acquired,
and since his day, a slow, but sure and mournful def;rada-
tion, has been their constant lot. By degrees they parted
with their land till not a single acre of their free niheritaiice

PBiriVSITLA OP MONTAVK. 128

can now be called their own. There are two tracts to whidi
they still lay claim, and for which a yearly rent is paid them^
but the title is in other hands and the rent is a sum nearly
nominal. Each (me of these tracts is known as the Indian
Field, though that name is more commonly applied to the
eastern one. The western division contains the site of
Wyandannee's Tillage, and is separated from the portiim
south of it, which is common to all the proprietors of Mon-
tauk, by a heavy stone wall. This wall wa9 built by the
white men at the time they bought the land, and it is a part
of their contract with the Indians that it shall be maintained.
It extends from Kongonock to the Great Pond, nearly east,
between two and three miles. As we pass along this wall
and cross the high ground southeast of Culloden, we see,
at the distance of about two miles, the highest landupon Mon-
tauk, the Shagwannock Hills. They are in the eastern di-
vision of the Indian Field. Between them and our station
lies the largest collection of fresh water to be found on Long
Island ; it is the Great Pond. What name it bore among the
Indians is perhaps now unknown. It is nearly three miles in
length, and in its northern half, about a mile in width. Many
years ago it was connected with the sea, on the north, by an
inlet, but that has long been closed and the water is now
perfectly fresh. While the inlet was open, fish of various
kinds of course frequented it, and when by a storm the com-
munication was cut off, a few of the striped Bass remained
enclosed, some of them still survive and have grown to a

1S4 SOME ACCOUNT OF TKB

great size. A year or two since one drifted ashore dead»
which weighed about forty pounds.

From the south end of the pond to the light-house is about
four miles, with scenery very similar to that which we have
already passed. The Pcnnt, on which the light-house stands,
was called by the Indians, Wamp<Snomon, and is the only
part to which on most maps the nan^ Montauk is given. It
rises nearly a hundred feet above the sea, and is cro¥med by
the tall white column of the light-house, itself a hundred
feet in height. The light is one of the most important on
our coast ; it is kept in admirable order, and from its great
elevation it sends its friendly warning far out upon the sea.
Were it not for the difficulty of access, Montauk would no
doubt become a place of fashionable resort, for its facilities
for surf bathing are unrivaled ; but so long as a tedious ride
of eighteen to twenty-five miles, across Neapeague and its
own rough surfaSe, lies between it and the nearest villages,
it must remain what it is now, one of the most perfectly wild
and lonely, and at the same time one of the most perfectly
delightful places for a summer sojourn, that our coast can
furnish. Its great and peculiar charm is the sense of entire
freedom which it inspires — ^freedom from the conventional
restraints of society — ^freedom from human observation — and
as the almost inevitable result of it — freedom from care.
On the beach or on the hills you feel that you are alone.
There is nothing to recall the busy and anxious scenes of
life, and even the grave and sedate man is apt to feel and
act like a boy just loosed from school, and to betake himself

PEMINSULA OF MONTAUK. 126

to skipping stones on the smooth water, or making ineffee-
taal shots with the same missiles at the nimble footed Sand-
erlings as they dodge in and out along the edge of the break-
ers. Whatever the method you take to amuse yourself, you
are sure to return at the appointed hour, for such a thing as
a poor appetite is unknown on Montauk, and you seat your-
self at the table, fully prepared to do justice to the abun-
dant cheer provided.

In a place so retired as this, the amusements common in
crowded places of resort, of course cannot exist. But sadly
deficient in his own resources must a man be, who finds
himself at a loss in what manner to occupy his time, or who
cannot pass at least a few days here most pleasantly.

From its loneliness, the great extent which is uninhabited,
its insular position, and its numerous ponds, Montauk is the
resort of great numbers of water birds at the different sea^
sons when their migrations bring them to our shores. Dur-
ing the heat of summer but few are there. One or two
straggling pairs of black ducks build their nests among the
marshes of Reed Pond, but almost all have passed far on to
their breeding places in the North. With the waning sum-
mer come the slender-billed waders in throngs. The Sand-
pipers and Tattlers, the Turnstones, Plover, Godwits and
Curlews are speedily followed by the Teal and other early
arriving ducks, but it is not until near the end of October that
the list is made complete by the coming of the geese. The
chief place of resort for these is the Great Pond, which is
very commonly called Goose Pond, and a sportsman coming

126 tOMX ACCOUNT OF THB

in sight of it for the first time, and seeing the geese coreikig
acres of its surface, and listening to the uninterrupted music
of their honking, or the loud roar of their wings as the whole
throng starts to flight at once, is very apt to think that thej
cannot all escape him. But when he has started at the early
dawn, and has lain shirering behind the Stone Wall or on Reed
Pond beach, and seen ten thousand geese pass into the pond^
but not one within his reach, and then when at night he has
seen them all pass out, going precisely where he did not
expect them, and has wended his way back in the dark-
ness, cold and hungry, and found that the remainder of the
company have come in from their several stations with the
same tale, he will begin to think that shooting a goose on
Montauk is not so easy as he at first supposed. And the
next day's experience will fully confirm him in the belief.

In closing this account of Montauk, a few words as to its
present condition, may not be unadvisable. It is owned by
an incorporated company, and is used simply as a pasture
field, each proprietor being entitled to the pasturage of a
certain number of cattle for every share of the stock he pos-
sesses. The cattle graze in common, and as they have no
protection from the inclemency of the weather, are all driven
off on the approach of winter. The business of the men
who inhabit the three houses — ^not including the one at the
Point — ^is to take care of these cattle, though not much care
is required, as there are no fences or cultivated grounds on
which they can trespass.

Of the Indians the race is almost extinct. Five or six

PENINSULA OF MONTAUK. 127

families still remain, but they are fast decreasing and very
probably the present generation is the last.

The limits of Montauk were once, perhaps, somewhat
greater than they are at present. On the north side near the
Great Pond are the remains of a pine forest which stood on
ground now covered by the sea. The roots remain buried
in the sand and are visible only on the receding of the tide.
In other parts also we find tokens of the encroachments of
the sea, and it is not at all impossible that the point once ex-
tended much further east than now, perhaps even as far as
to Block Island, for the geological character of the two is
very similar and very peculiar.

sc

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